Barstool Sessions II: Welcome to Jersey
by The Dude Slayer
Summary: Working in a bar all his life Ben Reilly has met some interesting people. Never before though can he say he's met these people. The stars of the "Jersey Trilogy" need help, and none want a psychologist, well a bartender will do instead. Continued from
1. Welcome to Jersey

Barstool Sessions II  
Welcome to Jersey  
  
  
  
  
Ben Reilly, former Key West native and local bartender   
extraordinary, stood behind the bar holding a half-empty mug of   
Guinness in his left hand and a burnt out cigar in his right. Ben's   
jaw hung open as he looked at Denis. The overly tanned barkeep took a   
few controlled breaths and closed his eyes.  
"Denis, please...repeat what you just told me." Ben held his   
head in his right hand as he spoke.  
  
Denis Leary, the owner of McLeary's Tavern, stood before Ben. A   
fresh cigarette held gently between his lips as he searched for a   
light. "You heard me. I'm opening a new bar, and I want you to run   
it." Denis' eyes widened at the flame that appeared before him.   
"Thanks Ben."  
Ben nodded as he lit his cigar. "No problem boss. So where   
exactly are you opening this new bar?"  
Denis smirked as he blew the smoke from his nose. "That's the   
best part. Its gonna be in Jersey."  
Ben dropped the mug he was holding as his cigar hit the bar.   
"WHAT?! YOU'RE SENDING ME TO JERSEY!!! FUUUUUCK!!!" Ben leaned over   
the bar and began slamming his head repeatedly into the polished oak   
bar. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...FUCK!!!"  
Denis stepped upto his most respected worker and tapped his   
shoulder. "Reilly. Calm down, I was just joking with you."  
Ben turned to his employer and growled. "I hate you, you know   
that? I've been back from Key West for less than a month and you drop   
that on me." Ben straightened his back and looked down on his boss.   
"I'm gonna grab a mop and a broom. Think you can keep the bad jokes   
out of here for a few?"  
The taller man turned on his heel and stalked into the back   
storage room. Denis watched as his young friend left a feeling of   
regret stitched on his features.  
  
Sheila, tall with blue spiky hair in a black and white mid-drift   
and skin tight jeans, walked up and placed her tray on the bar.   
"Where'd Ben go?"  
Denis looked to the waitress and sighed. "He's in the back. He   
dropped a glass."  
An expression of shock spread across Sheila's Asian features.   
"What? Ben's never dropped a glass before. What happened?"  
Denis placed a number of bottles on the tray as Sheila began   
emptying glasses. "I told him I was moving him to Jersey, and he   
freaked out." Denis took a drag off his cigarette before extinguishing   
it. "I'm worried about him. Ever since he returned from his trip back   
home he's been different. Something happened down there, and whatever   
it was it wasn't good for him."  
Sheila picked up her now full tray and gave Denis a weak smile.   
"It was the first time he'd been home in four years. There were a lot   
of unresolved issues when he left there last time. Maybe he still has   
a few to work through."  
Denis nodded as he picked up a bottle and walked out from behind   
the bar. "Maybe you're right. It's not my place to interfere."  
  
Ben stood in the doorway to the back room as he listened to Denis   
and Sheila. "Shel, you don't know how right you are." Ben picked up   
the broom and mop and headed into the bar to clean up the mess he'd   
made. "I should make Denis do this."  
  
  
  
  
A woman standing just around 5 foot 3 stood outside McLeary's   
Tavern. Her dark brown hair flapping gently in the light winter   
breeze. The woman looked at the folded newspaper in her hands and then   
to the bright neon sign before her.  
"This can't be the place, can it? This is a bar." Her dark   
brown eyes quickly scanned the newspaper. She shrugged and stepped   
into the bar.  
  
  
Ben threw the useless shards of glass into the trash. "Sometimes   
I wonder why I go back to that damn island." Ben picked up a bar towel   
and wiped his hands clean. Ben sighed after a moment, "Because it's   
home, and you never forget home."  
The auburn haired bartender watched as the front door opened and   
a woman in her mid-twenties entered giving the tavern a curious look   
around. Ben shrugged and poured a glass of Sam Adams and slid it down   
the bar.  
  
The woman looked around the bar slightly confused. After a   
minute she headed to the bar and sat at one unoccupied stools. "Excuse   
me?" she asked sheepishly. "Hello?"  
The woman watched as the man behind the bar poured beers, opened   
bottles, and mixed drinks. The bartender moved like he lived behind   
the bar. If she didn't know any better she'd swear his eyes were   
closed.  
  
Ben slid a mug down the bar. "Okay, two quad shots of tequila, a   
single of Scotch, and a bottle of Corona Extra." Ben did a single   
twirl and reached out grabbing a bottle of tequila in one hand and a   
pair of quad shot glasses in the other. Carefully he placed them on   
the bar and reached behind himself.  
Ben's hand gripped a bottle of Scotch, which he placed on the   
bar. Without trying he pulled down a shot glass and placed it on the   
bar top. Ben grabbed the two bottles and tipped them upside down   
allowing their contents to fall into their respective glasses.  
The experienced bartender flipped the bottle of Scotch into the   
air as he moved the tequila to the next glass. Ben caught the bottle   
and placed it on the bar, at the same time he placed the tequila down.   
"And now for the finale." Ben reached under the bar and pulled a   
bottle out and placed it on the bar.  
"BA BOOM!" Ben reached up and pulled the thick blindfold off his   
eyes. "You loose, two hundred bucks right now!" The young bartender   
smiled evilly at the man before him.  
A man in a business suit with graying hair removed his wallet and   
placed two bills on the bar. "Son, you've got quite a talent there.   
What would you say if I could get you on Broadway?"  
Ben placed the bottles behind the bar and smiled. "I'd say you   
owe me twenty bucks for the booze and fuck off. I don't trust anyone   
in the entertainment industry. But if you want a good actress here."   
The island native reached into his wallet and tossed a card at the man.   
"Call either of the two numbers on there. Both those girls are amazing   
actresses."  
The man looked at the card in his hand. "Carissa Simmons and   
Shackera Rookwood?"  
Ben growled slightly. "Its Shakeira, ya know like the singer.   
The pair of 'em are great actresses, of course they work better   
together. Just don't tell 'em who recommended them, alright."  
The man nodded as he paid for his drinks. "Alright son, thanks."  
Ben smiled. "No problem." He took the money and placed it in   
the register. "Ya no good baka producer," he mumbled.  
  
  
The woman leaned over the bar slightly and waved at the man   
behind the bar. "Hey!" She whistled in an attempt to gain his   
attention.  
  
Ben turned at the sound of someone whistling to find a woman   
leaning on the bar waving at him. With a gentle jump in his step the   
island boy walked the few feet and stood before her. "Good evening   
m'lady. How might this humble patron of alcohol serve you? You look   
like you could use a stiff drink."  
"Um, well..." she spoke quietly.  
Ben frowned. "Yo Shel! Turn the box down, will ya?!" The   
volume of the Rolling Stones "Bridges to Babylon" CD lowered in the   
background. Ben smiled happily. "You were saying?"  
The woman blushed slightly. "I was wondering...about the   
apartment...for rent." To emphasize her point the woman placed the   
folded newspaper on the bar.  
Curiously Ben picked up the newspaper and read the ad. "Hmm,   
that's strange." The young man placed the paper on the bar and   
shrugged. "You'll have to see Denis. He's in his office upstairs and   
to the far left."  
The woman smiled as she took the paper back. "T-thank you."  
Ben nodded, "No problem. Hurry up, we're about to hit the   
midnight run and this place is gonna be packed."  
"Alright, thanks." The woman nodded and scurried through the   
tavern for the staircase.  
Ben nodded as he looked at a regular sitting at the far end of   
the bar. "Hey, Maleck! Usual?" A tall, thin woman with dark black   
hair in a stylish dress nodded. Ben grabbed a martini shaker and began   
work on a drink.  
  
  
Denis sat behind his desk looking at the sales figures for the   
last month. Ever since Ben had returned from Key West the sales had   
nearly quadrupled, and Denis couldn't tell why. Sales had been   
slightly sluggish since Ben went off to Los Angeles, especially with   
Ben's raise and partial ownership, but they hadn't gone to a point   
where they couldn't be handled.  
Denis grumbled as he lit another cigarette. "Dammit boy, what is   
it about you?" Denis leaned back in his chair and looked at the   
ceiling. "It's nice having him back, but there is something different   
about him. I wish he'd just open up to Sheila or myself."  
Denis took a drag off his cigarette and blew the smoke at the   
ceiling above. He was about to return to his musings when he heard a   
knock at the door. "Enter."  
  
The woman knocked on the door gently. Being new to the big city   
was a real damper on her. "Enter," a voice called from inside. Not   
wanting to insult her possible landlord the woman opened the door and   
stepped inside.  
She closed the door and stepped a little further into the office.   
"Excuse me, are you Denis?" The blonde man behind the desk nodded.  
"Sure am, how can I help you?" Denis took a long drag off his   
cigarette before putting it out.  
The woman looked at Denis for a moment. "I was inquiring about   
the apartment for rent. My name's Lillyanna." She stepped upto the   
desk and reached out.   
Denis took her hand and gave it a gentle shake.  
Lillyanna stepped back. "I asked your bartender about it, but he   
told me to talk with you." Denis nodded again. Lillyanna looked   
around slightly confused. "Don't take this wrong, but this is a bar,   
correct?"  
Denis nodded again as he looked at the woman before him. She was   
short but it seemed to suit her. She wore a purple silk shirt with   
ruffled sleeves and a low neck line revealing a large amount of   
cleavage. She wore a pair of black leather pants with a pair of thigh   
high black boots.  
"Then where's the apartment?" Lillyanna asked dragging Denis   
back to his original train of thought.  
Denis looked at the woman before him and smirked. "Head   
downstairs and ask Ben to show it to you. He's the guy behind the bar.   
If he asks tell him I'll take over while he shows the apartment to you,   
alright?"  
Lillyanna nodded. "Okay. Thanks." She turned and walked out of   
the office heading back downstairs. A tiny smile on her feminine,   
almost feline, features as she remembered how Denis kept staring at her.  
  
Ben tossed a pair of bottles into the air and caught them upside   
down, quickly he crossed his arms and poured the liquids into their   
appropriate glasses. Just as quickly he flipped them into the air and   
slid the glasses down the bar.  
"Ben," a feminine voice asked.  
The tan barkeep looked around for the voice, almost missing the   
falling bottles. Everyone in viewing range gasped as the bottles fell   
towards the bar. Ever the expert Ben reached out and gripped the two  
bottles by their necks, mouths up.  
A resound of claps and cheers filled the expansive room. Ben   
took a few bows before replacing the bottles. After the bottles were   
resting properly the barkeep took a look around for whoever called him.  
  
Lillyanna watched as the man with the ponytail and tan skin   
played up the crowd surround him. He moved towards her with a tiny   
smile on his features. "Ben?"  
The auburn bartender nodded. "Yup. What can I do for you?"  
Lillyanna returned the smile. "Uh...Denis said he wanted you to   
show me around the apartment. If you don't mind."  
Ben gave the woman a curious look as he turned on his heel.   
Standing at the top of the staircase with his arms crossed was Denis.   
Ben turned back to Lillyanna and shrugged, "Why not. I'm still on the   
clock." Ben tossed his towel on the bar, placed his hand and jumped   
over landing on his feet. "Come on."  
With that the pair of brunettes took their leave of the tavern   
for the apartment above them.  
  
  
Ben pushed the door open. "Here you go. Simple place really.   
Two bed, bath, living room, and a kitchen...its not much, but the rent   
sounds cheap. What's Denis asking $200 a month?"  
Lillyanna smiled as she looked around the apartment. "$225, but   
that sounds like a steal really." The young woman made her way across   
the room to the large window directly opposite the door. "Oh, this'll   
be perfect for my herb garden."  
Ben leaned against the closed door, his hands resting in his   
duster pockets. He'd retrieved the coat saying the keys were in the   
pocket. "Herb garden...what are you some kinda witch?" Ben's deep   
voice rumbled as he laughed deep in his throat.  
Lillyanna turned and glared at the man before her. She rested he   
hands on her small waist and humphed. "As a matter of fact, I AM a   
Wiccan. Do you have a problem with that?!"  
Ben's laughter stopped abruptly as he opened his eyes. "What?   
Oh sheist! I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I should have recognized a   
fellow Wicca." A look of shame crossed his features.  
Lillyanna looked the bartender over with a quizzical stare. He   
stood there in a red satin shirt with a silver dragon embroidered in   
the fabric. His stone washed jeans were well worn, they no longer had   
the common rough texture of new jeans but still looked like they would   
last another decade. The obsidian leather duster draped around his   
body like a second skin, he wore it with pride and it carried an air of   
authority and respect with it. His hair was long and pulled back into   
a thick auburn ponytail reaching past his shoulders.  
Lillyanna smiled ruefully. "Well then, seeing as you're a fellow   
witch maybe you wouldn't mind helping in some of the more..."   
Lillyanna paused and licked her upper teeth seductively, "...fun spells   
that I know."  
  
Ben could feel a tightening in his jeans and not for the first   
time since purchasing, them ten years ago, wished he'd bought a bigger   
size. "Well...that'd be kinda hard."  
Lillyanna frowned and pouted, her little plan had fallen through.   
"Oh, and why is that?"  
Ben pulled his coat tight and turned around to face the door. "I   
quit practicing. Look I'm going back downstairs. Look around some   
more if you want, I've gotta get back to work."  
Having said that, the auburn bartender grabbed the door handle   
and pulled. Ben exited the room silently leaving the possible new   
resident of McLeary's alone in the apartment.  
Lillyanna watched as the man left her alone. It was obvious that   
whatever caused him to stop practicing was weighing heavily upon him.   
With a sigh Lillyanna followed the bartender downstairs.  
  
  
Denis took the keys from Ben and walked out from behind the bar.   
"So is she gonna take it?"  
Ben frowned. "Why do you want to get rid of it so bad? I liked   
having the apartment free. It gave me a place to sleep when I decide I   
need to get plastered."  
Denis frowned in return. "You can sleep on the bar. Its not   
like you haven't done it before."  
Ben grinned slightly. "True, I have. That's not the point. I   
know you're not selling that place to keep me from passing out in the   
bar. So come on, why are you doing it?"  
Denis sighed and leaned on the bar, motioning his employee   
closer. Ben abided and leaned in. Denis looked around quickly and   
whispered to the island boy. "It'll make for a HUGE tax write off.   
You've quadrupled my income since the LA bar went up, I don't know how   
you did it...but since you came back from the island profits are up   
400%. So I'm gonna use the apartment as a tax write off."  
Ben rolled his eyes at the blonde haired man before him. "What   
do you care? You don't even report the real amount of cash that's   
brought in. Why the write off?"  
Denis sighed. "I've had some IRS guys coming in now and again   
and just in case they..."  
"...find your real books you want some kind of loophole. I see."   
Ben shook his head and picked up a towel. "And that's why I never file   
my taxes."  
Denis' jaw dropped. "So, THAT'S why you always want to be paid   
in cash."  
Ben shrugged as he opened a bottle of beer. "What can I say? I   
haven't forgotten my island roots. Now if you don't mind Lilly's   
behind you and I think she wants to talk." Ben turned a quick 180 and   
asked a woman what she'd like to drink.  
  
Denis looked behind him to find Lillyanna sitting beside him at   
the bar. Denis smiled at the young woman beside him. "So, how'd you   
like the apartment?"  
Lillyanna smiled back as she watched Ben work. "The apartment's   
nice, but I don't know about the whole bar thing. And I'm not a big   
Rolling Stones fan."  
Denis frowned as he watched a possible sale go away. "What can I   
do to assure this sale?"  
The auburn haired woman hmmmed as she looked around in faux   
thought. "I don't know..."  
Denis looked behind the bar at Ben in a vain hope that he'd help   
him. The young bartender shrugged and turned his back to fulfill an   
order for Bloody Mary's. Denis turned back to Lillyanna and sighed.   
"Well I guess we can keep the music down, and maybe I could consider   
going back to $220 a month."  
"Well...I like the music idea, but twenty is still out of my   
range. How about two even?"  
Denis' eyes bulged at the woman's suggestion. "WHAT?! $215 and   
that's as low as I'll go!"  
Lillyanna smirked and reached out. "Fair enough Mr. Leary.   
You've just made a sale. Ben, a round of Jell-O shots for me and Mr.   
Leary."  
  
Ben shook his head smiling to himself. Not since his own   
haggling with Denis had the boy seen anyone talk money with his boss   
like that. The auburn bartender had known what Lillyanna was going to   
do, he'd felt the apprehension she'd been feeling since she walked down   
the stairs as she planned how to weasel out of some of the price.  
With a flip of his ponytail Ben turned around and stared down his   
boss and soon to be sometimes roommate. "Sorry lass, but the boss   
never ordered any Jell-O. We're a bar, not a nightclub."  
Lillyanna frowned as she looked at the man before her. "Got any   
wine coolers?"  
Ben rolled his eyes and looked at the ceiling, with pursed lips   
he mentally ran inventory on what was available. After a long minute   
the bartender nodded and walked from behind the bar into the storeroom.  
Lillyanna watched as the man behind the bar disappeared. Once he   
was gone she looked to Denis. "Is he always that aloof?"  
  
The young woman's answer came not from beside her, but from   
behind. Sheila slipped up next to Denis and placed her tray on the   
bar. "Denis I swear ever since Ben came back here, everyone he's ever   
met has been in this bar. Now I know why he's here 'til the ungodly   
hours."  
Denis turned to his Asian waitress. "What do you mean Sheila?   
Ben's cleaning the bar every night at those 'ungodly hours' as you call   
them."  
Sheila sighed and fell onto a stool. "True, but he's also here   
talking with people. Everyone keeps asking if Ben's busy tonight, they   
all seem to want to share their problems with him." The blue haired   
woman leaned back against the bar and covered her face for a second.   
"He's an amazing listener and an awesome problem solver, but I don't   
think even he could handle all these people tonight."  
Denis nodded and took a sip from his beer. "How right you are.   
But as long as he does his job I don't really mind what he dose on his   
own time."  
  
"Funny. I could swear I was still clocked in at two every   
morning. That seems to be when I rush my chat partners out on   
average." Ben had returned with a wine cooler that he'd given to   
Lillyanna. "There ya go love."  
Denis turned on his employee. "Ben, I don't mind you helping   
people. Actually I encourage it. The more problems you solve the more   
people that come here, and the sooner I raise all of your paychecks.   
But could you try not too keep people here all night?"  
Ben shrugged and picked up a towel to clean the bar with. "Sure   
thing boss. Now if you don't mind I need to make the last call." Ben   
smiled as he grabbed the microphone and informed the patrons that it   
was time to pay up or ship out.  
  
  
  
  
Ben tossed his towel into a pile of dirty rags and sighed. A   
week off in Key West had ruined the young bartender. Seeing his   
old friends, his family, people he had grown up with, and a number of   
ex-girlfriends had reminded Ben why he'd left the island originally.  
The week back home was supposed to be a week of rest, relaxation,   
and re-energizing. Instead it had turned into four days of paradise, a   
day of hell as every ex-lover hunted him down and attempted to castrate   
him, and two days of non-stop drinking. What had once been heaven had   
become hell to the young man.  
Ben sighed as he remembered the last few hours he'd spent in Key   
West before things began to blur in his mind. Blonde hair dyed red, a   
slap to the face, two women leaving the man alone on the beach, Robbie   
standing over him with his head hung...  
  
Ben slammed his fist into the bar. "GOD DAMMIT!!! This is NOT   
happening!" The bartender pulled his leg back and kicked the bar   
causing a solid thud as his foot connected with the hard oak wood.  
"Not again! This will NOT happen to me again! I left there once   
with no regrets, and I'll do it again! If those bitches think that   
I'll just take that shit and let it control me they're too fucking   
wrong!" Ben slammed his fist down hard once more as he cursed.  
  
Lillyanna stood in the threshold of the bar, a large cardboard   
box in her hands. It had been obvious Ben hadn't heard her enter.   
She'd been hoping for a hand in bringing her stuff into the apartment   
what she hadn't expected was to see something no one else had seen   
before.  
The most popular bartender in New York City's West End in a   
breakdown was probably the last thing Lillyanna ever thought she'd be   
privy too. The young Wicca waited until the bartender calmed down   
before she placed her belongings on the floor and joined him at the   
bar.  
  
Ben looked down into the mug of Guinness he'd been drinking for   
the past two hours. In that time it's volume had changed so little   
that one could swear it was still full. The auburn bartender closed   
his eyes tightly as he felt something.  
The island native could feel something compassionate and   
concerned slowly closing the distance between himself and the emotions.   
Ben gripped the highly polished bar and gritted his teeth. Taking a   
strained breath Ben released the bar and his breath as he spoke.   
"Lillyanna, I'd love to help you move your stuff but I'm not exactly in   
the mood right now. Sorry."  
Ben started to push himself from the bar when he felt a strong   
arm push him back down. "Nuh-uh cowboy, sit, talk. What's bothering   
you?" Lillyanna was sitting beside Ben holding his shoulder.  
Ben glared for a moment before he gave up. This woman was   
willing to sit here and listen to Ben's problems, she'd met him mere   
hours ago and was willing to let him bitch and complain, he knew this   
because she was telling him so with her concern.  
  
Ben grabbed his beer and drained half of it in a single gulp.   
With a deep sigh the apprehensive bartender gave in. "Where should I   
start?" His words carried many meanings.   
Lillyanna smiled gently. "The beginning is always a good place   
to begin."  
Ben grinned slightly. "That's hard to do seeing as there's many   
beginnings to my torrid tale."  
Lillyanna patted Ben's hand. "I've got all night."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A young man in a yellow winter coat and dark beanie looked   
around. His obese friend wore a trenchcoat over a sweater an a pair of   
jeans, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips.  
"C'mon Silent Bob, let's find us some sweet bitches! I need me   
some of that sweet, sweet lovin'!"  
The man in the trenchcoat looked to his compatriot with a raised   
eyebrow. His silence spoke volumes.  
The man in the beanie glared at his friend. "What do you mean,   
'What about Justice?' Fuck man she's in fucking jail. She's probably   
doin' somea that sweet lesbo shit that ya only see in nudie mags like   
that faggot Randal reads. So if she's doin' that I can go get me some   
fucking pussy too man." The man's speech was rapid and hard to hear.  
Silent Bob rolled his eyes and tossed his dead cigarette away.   
He quietly shook his head and watched as his partner in crime rambled   
on with a nearby hooker. "Idiot."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
*Chibi Dude Slayer does official author's jig*  
  
TDS: So that's part one of the latest installment of the   
Barstool Sessions. This is season two, "Welcome to Jersey". This   
series will deal solely with Kevin Smith's famous characters from the   
Jersey Trilogy: "CLeRKS", "Mallrats", and of course "Chasing Amy".  
  
*Vampboy walks onstage reading a copy of "Variety"*  
VB: And so the popular series "The Barstool Sessions" is being   
nominated for an Academy Award along with the recent TV Guide Award.   
Its speculated that this up and coming series will easily sweep the   
ceremonies with its intriguing stories and amazing character   
development. The Dude Slayer has also been nominated for "Best   
Director in a New Series".  
  
*The Dude Slayer gives Vampboy a curious look from behind his   
mirrored sunglasses*  
TDS: Dude, what are you reading?  
  
*Vampboy looks at his friend*  
VB: Nothing. Just the new "Variety".  
TDS: You mean that crap ass Hollywood newspaper that reviews all   
the movies and new TV shows?  
VB: *nods* That's the one. It says here that the Barstool   
Sessions is up for multiple awards.  
TDS: *looks shocked* How? I can't win anything. This is   
fanfiction. I've borrowed the characters from their respective owners,   
like Kevin Smith owns Jay and Silent Bob, and Denis Leary owns Denis   
and McLeary's. Hell, I don't even own Lillyanna. She's the property   
of one of my friends.  
VB: Don't ask me dude. All I know is I made you do a disclaimer   
and you didn't even know it.  
  
*Vampboy walks offstage howling with laughter*  
*The Dude Slayer growls as he watches his friend*  
  
TDS: I hate him sometimes. Well are you all wondering what   
happened while Ben was away? Who are these women that have hurt our   
favorite bartender? How do Sheila and Lillyanna fit into all this?   
Have I totally lost it? How many secrets does our loyal island boy   
hold behind his duster and sunglasses?  
Stay tuned. Do you like what I write, do you hate it, or   
are you totally confused? E-mail me and ask.  
  
redrum124@bigfoot.com  
  
http://the_dude_slayer.tripod.com/Home.html  
  
Stay swag all.  
Ja Ne! 


	2. Another New Day, Another New Job

Barstool Sessions II  
Another New Day, Another New Job  
  
  
  
  
Ben placed the box he was carrying on the floor. Lillyanna had   
been moving into the apartment for a week now and had asked Ben if he   
would help with some of the boxes. Being a nice guy, Ben agreed and   
was now placing the final box down.  
Ben's ice blue eyes scanned the main room of the apartment as he   
searched for Lillyanna. She said she was going to run down the street   
for something, that had been ten minutes ago. Ben pulled his   
sunglasses off and slid them into a pocket as he fell into the deep   
violet easy chair he'd moved earlier that morning.  
"Man, I hate moving my own stuff, why do I always agree to help   
other people move theirs?" Ben shrugged and sank deeper into the   
chair. "Must be my good nature." The auburn islander pulled his   
duster closed as he yawned. Seconds later he was curled up in the   
chair taking his mid-morning nap.  
  
  
  
  
Lillyanna fumbled with her keys as she tried to balance the bags   
she was carrying. It had taken her nearly a half-hour to find a store   
selling what she'd needed. Two trips on the wrong subway train and a   
mixed up address later she'd found her way back to McLeary's.  
Lillyanna grumbled as she placed the bags on the floor and began   
searching for the right key to open the door with. "Dammit I should   
have just had Ben stay here after he was done. AH HA!" Lillyanna   
succeeded with the keys and pushed the door open.  
The dark-haired woman entered her apartment expecting to see   
boxes stacked up, furniture waiting to be arranged, and herbs waiting   
to be planted. The last thing she expected to find was a man in a   
trenchcoat sleeping soundly in her overstuffed chair. Lillyanna smiled   
at the sight that few people ever had.  
  
Ben lay curled into a tight ball on the chair. His duster had   
fallen open allowing him slight maneuverability in his dreams. Ben's   
usually deep voice was subdued as he mumbled in his sleep.  
Lillyanna smiled to herself as she carried her bags into the   
kitchen area of the apartment. With a sly smile Lillyanna dropped her   
bags loudly on the counter.  
Ben fell from the chair and rolled onto his feet. "Wha...huh?   
What happened? Oh hey Lil, when'd you get back?"  
Lillyanna smiled as she began emptying the bags. "Just now. I   
see you got all the boxes inside. Thanks for the help."  
Ben yawned and stretched his arms over his head, his large duster   
pulled off his shoulders slightly. "No prob. Its nothin' I haven't   
done before." The island boy lowered his arms and checked his watch.   
"Cripes. I'll catch ya later, Lil. I'm gonna head home and get ready   
for work."  
Lillyanna looked curiously at Ben. "But you don't go in until   
tonight. Why the rush?"  
Ben removed his sunglasses and ran a hand through his deep auburn   
hair. "Sorry lass, but I was just about to got to sleep when you   
called me over here. I mean I'm still wearing the clothes I wore to   
work last night."  
Lillyanna shook her head. "You didn't have to come you know."  
Ben smiled slightly knowing he was about to become annoying. "It   
was nothin'. Well I'll see ya tonight. Got a new drink I want you to   
try out, if ya want to."  
Lillyanna smiled back. "Yeah I guess that wouldn't be too bad.   
All right, I'll see you tonight. Stay out of trouble Bacchus."  
Ben smiled gleefully. "As the god of drunken orgies I can nae do   
such a thing." Ben opened the door and walked out into McLeary's.  
  
  
  
  
Brodie Bruce, current host of the hit NBC show The Tonight Show,   
sat in his dressing room brooding. He'd been the show's host for a few   
years and was enjoying the job. But there was something missing from   
his life, he just wasn't sure what it was anymore.  
Brodie had one of the largest comic book collections on the East   
Coast, rivaled only by the comic companies and his hero Stan "The Man"   
Lee. As he flipped aimlessly through his newest issue of Fantastic   
Four, Brodie idyll thought of his life before The Tonight Show. A tiny   
smile crept across his features as he thought about how he'd attained   
the job in the first place.  
That one day at the mall he'd been attempting to deal with his   
girlfriend, and now drummer in his studio band, having dumped him. His   
best friend and cohort T.S. was likewise dealing with the loss of his   
lover. By the day's end they had both obtained the objects of their   
affections, ruined two men's carriers, destroyed a live television   
show, and publicly humiliated at least four people. All in all it had   
been a good day.  
  
Brodie placed the comic book back in its protective sleeve and   
sighed. Quickly he grabbed his suit jacket and headed out of the   
studio. "I need a drink. Maybe I'll go visit that new bar Randal was   
talking about."  
  
  
  
  
Ben growled unconsciously as he slammed the refrigerator door   
closed. "DENIS! Where the hell is the cranberry juice?!"  
A man with short blonde hair looked over the railing down at the   
bar. "Check the fridge!"  
Ben glared up at his boss. "I did that already!"  
Denis glared back at his employee. "Both of them?"  
"Of course! And the one in back! Don't tell me you didn't get   
any cranberry juice!" Ben leaned against the bar as he yelled at Denis   
on the next floor.  
"What do you need it for?!" Denis asked as he lit a cigarette.  
Ben grumbled, "Wish I had a smoke." He looked up at Denis. "I   
told you I found a new drink recipe I wanted to make!"  
"Which one?!"  
Ben ran a hand through his deep brown hair and sighed. 'I will   
not get angry. I will not get angry.' The bartender took a deep   
breath and let it out slowly. "The sea breeze! I found the grapefruit   
juice, now where's the cranberry I asked you to get?!"  
Denis scratched his head as he thought of the last order he'd   
made. He didn't remember ordering any juice except orange. "Ask   
Sheila, I think she knows!"  
Ben mumbled something incoherent as he looked around the bar for   
Sheila. He could just make out the Asian waitress with the blue hair   
at the other end of the tavern picking up a check.  
  
Sheila placed her tray down and began placing empty bottles,   
mugs, and shot glasses onto it. Her spiky, blue hair fell limply into   
her face, her hair gel having lost its hold an hour ago in the humid   
bar. Sheila picked up her tray and made her way to the bar, weaving   
between people and chairs.  
The Asian waitress placed her tray on the bar and waved. Her   
wrists jangled from the obscene number of bracelets she wore. "Ben."  
  
The tanned barkeep turned on his heel and stared the waitress   
down. "Hey Shel, ya seen the cranberry juice? I need to make a drink   
and I can't find it."  
Sheila shook her head slightly. "Sorry B, not recently. Hey I   
need three orders of Miller, two Heinekens, a pitcher of Bud, and a   
Long Island."  
Ben nodded and began preparing the order. "On it." With a slide   
across the floor and a half step the twenty-something surfer/bartender   
was pouring drinks as if it were his nature.  
Sheila looked around for a moment before turning her attention   
back to Ben. "Have you seen Lillyanna today?"  
Ben placed the pitcher on Sheila's tray and nodded. "Sure did.   
She's up with Denis finishing off their paper work."  
Sheila nodded as she leaned against the bar. "So?"  
"So what?" Ben asked as he placed the bottles of Heinekens on the   
tray. "Whata ya wanna ask?"  
Sheila allowed a sly grin to creep over her features. "So...have   
you slept with her yet?"  
The barkeep nearly fell over from the unexpected question. As he   
regained his sense, Ben spun and stared at Sheila. "Jesus woman. You   
think all I do is mix drinks, fuck, and surf. Is that it?"  
Sheila shook her head. "No that's your over-sexed friend you   
brought in here one day. I just know you, you enjoy sex. And I   
figured you've had a week, so..."  
Ben dropped the remaining drinks onto the tray. "First off Shel,   
ya don't know me. No one does...not as much as they think they do.   
And second, no I haven't fucked her yet. And I doubt I will. She   
reminds me too much of someone else...someone I'd rather forget." Ben   
left his meaning to hang in the air as he turned and walked into the   
back room.  
Sheila watched silently as Ben maneuvered himself out the back   
door of the bar and into the adjoining alley. As she picked up the   
tray of drinks Sheila began to wonder just how much about the Key West   
barkeep she knew.  
  
Ben stepped into the chilly New York night. His silk shirt did   
not provide much warmth as the wind slashed his face and arms. Though   
the island-boy did not seem to mind. His attention was focused on the   
two men standing outside his establishment.  
The tall one was wearing a heavy yellow coat, his long blonde   
hair was neatly falling out of a black wool toboggan. The shorter one   
wore a large green trench coat and a backwards "Mooby" hat. The tall   
one was dancing and speaking rapidly while the shorter one stood   
silently smoking a cigarette.  
Rather peeved to find a pair of stoners dealing in front of his   
second home, Ben steeled his anger and stormed over to the pair. The   
young bartender silently stepped up behind the taller of the pair and   
threw him against the brick wall. "What the FUCK is this?! I thought   
I told you two to stop dealing outside my bar!"  
Ben slammed the taller man against the wall before turning him   
around. Ben's ice blue eyes glared deeply into the younger man's   
stoned face.  
  
"What the fuck? Who the fuck are you, bitch?" The blonde   
demanded in his rapid speech.  
The obese man in the trench coat tapped his tall friend's   
shoulder and shook his head.  
The blonde stared down at the bearded man. "What the fuck   
Lunchbox? Why the fuck not?!"  
The bearded man just shook his head again and nodded to Ben   
before making a whirling motion with his hands.  
The blonde quickly shut his mouth and turned back to the   
bartender that was holding him against the wall. The man standing   
before him wore an expression of rage on his usually more demure and   
calm face. The blonde man chuckled and looked down into Ben's deep   
blue eyes. "What can I do ya for?"  
  
Ben glared at the pair of dealers for a moment before releasing   
the man in his hands. "Look, I don't like you two dealing out here.   
Makes me look bad with my boss. But how 'bout we make a deal. You   
give me a dime bag, and I don't kick both your asses and forcibly   
remove you from the premises. How's that sound?"  
The tall blonde man was in the process of making a snide remark   
when his trench-wearing partner stopped him. He nodded to the   
bartender and raised a finger. Ben stared for a moment before he   
caught on. "One condition?" The man nodded as he pulled the small bag   
from his coat pocket.  
Ben nodded, "Okay. What is it?"  
The large man pointed to the ground at his feet and leaned   
against the side of the tavern. He reached into his coat and produced   
a cigarette and a lighter. The man proceeded to light the cigarette   
and smile.  
Ben nodded as he figured out what the man was saying. "So your   
condition is that you can deal out here?" The man nodded. Ben rubbed   
his deep brown goatee before nodding. "All right. But only for   
tonight. If I catch you two out here again, I'll either kill you or   
have you arrested. Depends on my mood."  
The man nodded before handing over the small bag of leaves to the   
now calmer barkeep. With a tiny smirk he took a drag off his cigarette   
and leaned back against the wall.  
The tall blonde man began yelling at his obese friend as Ben   
returned to the confines of McLeary's.  
  
  
Lillyanna stepped upto the bar. Her deep brown hair was tied   
into a pair of braids that wrapped around her head, meeting in a palate   
that lay against her back. Her lilac blouse contrasted with the dark   
and almost dank atmosphere of McLeary's. She'd come downstairs from   
Denis's office where she'd just finished off the last of her rental   
paperwork.  
Lillyanna was in the mood for that new drink Ben had promised her   
this morning, and was a bit surprised to not find him at his usual   
place behind the bar. Her curiosity gained the better of her as she   
waved Sheila to her.  
The Asian barmistress stepped upto the tavern's newest occupant.   
Sheila dropped her hefty tray onto the bar next to Lillyanna. "Yeah,   
girl?"  
Lillyanna looked at the exhausted woman. "Where's Ben?"  
Sheila shrugged as she cleaned her tray. "Not sure. I saw him   
head out the backdoor a little while ago. Maybe he's taking a smoke   
break. Not totally unusual for him. Just head through the kitchen,   
you'll find the door to the alley. He keeps his Harley out there, so   
if he's anywhere it'll be there."  
The brunette woman nodded to her Asian companion before standing   
and heading for the kitchen. She could hear a few whistles and   
catcalls from some of the tavern's less reputable patrons. Lillyanna   
stopped and looked down at her skintight leather pants and shrugged as   
she continued out the door.  
  
  
  
At a table near the jukebox sat a very popular man in the   
entertainment industry. He was nursing his third beer of the night as   
he contemplated his future and his occupation.  
Brodie Bruce enjoyed his job with NBC, but it was getting a tad   
bit tiring asking basically the same questions each day, telling the   
same jokes each week, ribbing at the same people so often he'd lost   
interest in them.  
Brodie sighed for the umpteenth time that night and took a sip of   
his beer. His eyes wandered the room as he began to wonder where this   
so called "miracle working" bartender was. He'd seen someone leave the   
bar area and exit a back way, but didn't think anything of it.  
  
  
  
Ben leaned against his black Harley Davidson and inhaled again.   
"This shit's almost as good as my old home blends." The bartender   
chuckled as he took another tiny drag off the oddly shaped cigarette in   
his hand. Ben stood in the alley next to McLeary's Tavern, where he   
parked his Harley during business hours.  
The bartender was enjoying his ill-appropriated goods. His   
previous anger and confusion was gone and replaced by a happy and   
somewhat ditzy attitude. Ben's mood improved greatly as he noticed the   
door to the bar open and he saw Lillyanna walk out. "Hey babe!"  
  
Lillyanna pushed her long dark hair from her face as she was   
struck by a chilly gust of wind. "Hey babe!" a familiar voice called   
out. Lilly turned and glared at the happy bartender before her. "I   
hate being called that, Ben."  
Lillyanna watched as the man before her took a quick drag off the   
object in his hand. "All right, love. Whatever ya wish." The man was   
obviously not in his left mind, by his own words he'd never been in his   
right mind.  
The young woman stared at her friend. "Ben, are you okay?"  
The barkeep nodded and smiled. "Sure am pretty lady. Why'd   
y'all ask?" Ben's Southern drawl was beginning to return to his   
usually articulate speech.  
"You just don't seem yourself right now." Lillyanna's deep dark   
brown eyes stared down the man she had thought she knew.  
  
  
Brodie waved at the Asian woman walking around. "Miss?"  
Sheila stopped by Brodie's table and nodded. "Yes, what can I   
get you?"  
A thousand sexist comments flew through Brodie's mind at that   
moment, but he was more worried about finding this bartender and   
getting home to the love of his life. Brodie just shrugged and looked   
at her. "I was wondering if some guy named Reilly worked here?"  
Sheila looked confused for a moment before it struck her. "Oh,   
you mean Ben. Yeah, he's working tonight. Why, you have some problem   
you want his help with?" Though her voice sounded accusing and angry   
her attitude and complexion showed that she was just playing games with   
the man.  
Brodie nodded. "Well, yes I do."  
Sheila nodded. "Well he's on a smoke break right now. When he   
comes back I'll tell him to come talk with you. Sound good?"  
Brodie smiled for the first time that night. "Sure, thanks."  
Sheila returned the smile as she walked off. "Don't mention it   
Mr. Bruce." Almost as an afterthought Sheila looked at Brodie. "Oh   
yeah, before I forget. Don't tell him where you work. He hates anyone   
in the entertainment industry, not too sure why though."  
With that said, Sheila began making her rounds.  
Brodie watched as Sheila as she talked to a customer. "I wonder   
what she meant by that."  
  
  
Denis sat in his office filing paperwork. He and Lillyanna had   
finalized the rental agreement and he was preparing to inform his   
accountant about the deal when he heard something from outside.   
Curiously the tavern's owner looked out his window into the alley   
behind the bar to see his prize bartender and his new resident in a   
yelling match.  
Confused at the sight Denis left his papers and headed out of his   
office. His destination, the alleyway.  
  
  
Ben smiled wickedly at the young woman before him. "So what   
brings ya out here tanight?"  
Lillyanna, shocked to find out that her friend was stoned, glared   
at the bartender. "I came looking for you. Sheila told me you were on   
a smoke break. If I'd know this is what she meant I wouldn't have   
bothered to look for you."  
Ben tilted his head to the side slightly. "Whatcha mean, lass?"  
Aggravated, Lillyanna stepped upto the bartender and grabbed the   
half-smoked joint form the corner of his lips. She threw the blunt to   
the ground and stepped on it angrily. "Dammit Ben, if I knew you were   
some fucking stoner I wouldn't have bothered buying this apartment.   
"You were the reason I agreed to Denis' price. I thought I'd   
found a friend in you, but I guess I was wrong." Lillyanna turned on a   
heel and began storming inside.  
Half-aware Ben reached out and grabbed Lillyanna's arm. On a   
reflex the older woman spun and slapped her friend hard enough to send   
him to his rear end.  
  
Ben looked up at Lillyanna slightly confused. "What? Lil, whata   
ya talkin' 'bout? That was my first joint in six years. I'm not a   
stoner."  
Lillyanna glared at the man on his butt. "Don't lie to me. I   
just put out your joint. I can still smell the shit on you. Hell,   
you're still buzzed." A tiny crystalline tear began forming at the   
corner of Lillyanna's muddy green eyes.  
Weakly Ben pushed himself to his feet. "Lilly, I swear. That   
was the first time in years."  
The young woman glared at the barkeep. "Oh so then why all of a   
sudden did you need one!"  
Ben turned his eyes away from Lillyanna. He gently chewed on his   
lower lip as he tried to come up with an answer. After a moment he   
spoke, his voice was low and weak. "You don't need to know. Old   
wounds that never seem to heal."  
Angrily, and a bit hurt, Lillyanna stepped upto Ben and slapped   
him again, not as hard this time. "I DON'T need to KNOW! My only   
friend in this town was getting stoned for some reason and I DON'T NEED   
TO KNOW!!! Dammit Ben, don't lie to me!"  
Ben's deep ice blue eyes turned for the first time to meet   
Lillyanna's tear filled green ones. "You don't know my past, I do.   
And I want to forget it. There's shit I've gotten into that will get   
you into trouble. Please, if I never ask you for another thing, please   
just don't ever ask me about my past."  
Lillyanna could feel her hate building up as she listened to her   
friend. "Don't change the subject. I want to know why you thought you   
needed to come out here and burn off your last few brain cells!"  
Ben averted his gaze once more. "I didn't change the subject. I   
came out here to escape from myself for a moment. I met a couple of   
stoners dealing out here and I got rid of them. But I found a dime bag   
one of them dropped, and..."  
Ben's large arms wrapped around his chest as he neared tears.   
"I'm weak, okay. My past makes me weak." His voice was wavering as he   
inched closer and closer to crying.  
  
  
  
Denis stepped into the alley, careful to not slam the door into   
the tavern. He could hear Lillyanna and Ben argue. He chuckled at an   
inane thought, "Heh, they sound like a married couple."  
Silently Denis maneuvered himself close enough so that he could   
hear both sides of the conversation, and also so he wouldn't be noticed   
by the pair of arguers.  
  
  
Lillyanna stopped the rant that began to work itself into her   
voice. She could see that her friend was telling the truth. She could   
also see that whatever he was cryptically speaking about was causing   
him more pain than she knew.  
Ben released himself from his weak hug and started for the tavern   
door. He kept the few words on his mind to himself as he walked past   
Lillyanna. Silently he blinked back a few tears as he opened the door.   
Just before stepping inside Ben looked back to the dark-haired woman   
and mouthed a silent "I'm sorry".  
Lillyanna watched as her friend stepped inside. Lillyanna chewed   
on her lower lip as she pondered what the younger man had just told   
her. It was obvious to her that there was something he was hiding that   
was slowly killing him inside, and if he didn't let go soon he would   
hurt someone, most likely himself.  
Lillyanna gently brushed a tear off her cheek as she looked at   
the door before her. "I'm sorry Ben, but someday you'll tell me.   
You'll tell me all of it. I don't want you being in this much pain   
alone. I can wait, but not forever." Quietly the young woman started   
up the fire escape to her apartment. "Someday my friend, someday."  
  
  
  
  
  
The night passed slowly along for the lethargic bartender. Ben   
had turn on his internal auto-pilot and just ran the tavern like a   
zombie. Any conversation he might have had with the customers was   
reduced to simple nods, grunts, and the occasional "yes" or "okay".   
Ben finally made "Last Call" an hour later than usual.  
Though the bar's occupants didn't mind, Sheila did complain as   
the people began filing out of the building.  
  
  
Brodie downed his whiskey and stepped upto the bar. He placed   
the empty glass behind the auburn bartender. "Hey." His greeting was   
answered with a simple jerk of the other man's head.  
Brodie was a bit surprised at the man's action. Randal had told   
him that Mr. Reilly was a nice, considerate bartender with a totally   
insatiable need to help anyone that was seated at his bar, but tonight   
that man seemed to be replaced by an unthinking, uncaring man with a   
bar towel and a frown.  
"I was hoping to talk with you. If you have the time." Brodie   
spoke easily, unsure if he'd upset the man before him.  
  
Ben barely registered the man sitting at his bar. He shrugged at   
the man not caring either way if he spoke or not. All the confused   
bartender could think about was how quickly he'd upset Lillyanna, and   
how easily he'd broken his promise to an old Key West friend.  
In the background of his hearing Ben listened to the man at the   
bar as he rambled on about his work with the Tonight Show. The man   
kept mentioning how much he disliked working with NBC, no matter how   
much they were paying him.  
The young barkeep half-listened as the other man recounted a   
story about him and his best friend at a mall. Ben didn't care about   
how the man at his bar got his job with NBC, or how his best friend   
wouldn't stop pining over a girl, or even about how he nailed his own   
ex in an elevator.  
Finally fed up Ben tossed his towel into a bucket to be washed   
and growled. "If you hate your job so much, then quit. Give 'em yer   
two weeks then find something else. Hell, go open a fucking comic shop   
for all I care. 'Brodie's fucking Secret Stash,' yeah that's a great   
name for a comic shop."  
  
Brodie sat back as the bartender yelled at him. It wasn't so   
much yelling as it was him letting off some steam. But the barman had   
a point. He hated his job, so why didn't he just quit. Quickly he   
jumped up and grabbed Ben's hand, which he violently shook.  
"You're right. I'll do it. I'll quit. AND, I will open a comic   
shop. Thanks. Randal was right, you are a genius." Brodie shook the   
man's hand once more before running out of the bar.  
Ultimately confused Ben watched as the man ran from his tavern.   
The young bartender scratched his head a few times before shrugging and   
cleaning up the mess left by that evening's patrons.  
  
  
  
  
  
Epilogue  
  
  
Lillyanna lie on her bed. Her hands under her head as she looked   
up at the ceiling. "Ben," she whispered, "I wish you'd just tell me   
what was bothering you so much. You can't keep it hidden forever, we   
both know that."  
Lillyanna rolled over and closed her eyes. "Someday I hope you   
tell me what happened."  
  
  
  
Outside a small convenience store a pair of men stood. One was a   
tall blonde in a yellow coat, the other a stout man in a trench coat.  
The blonde was pacing back and forth. "What the fuck, Silent   
Bob. That fucker tried to kick our asses and all you did was give him   
some weed?! C'mon Lunchbox, what the fuck?! What's his fuckin'   
problem?!"  
Silent Bob looked over at his compatriot and sighed. "Jay, shut   
up. Let's just go home. Ben's got enough problems without you wanting   
to kick his ass." The trench coat wearer placed a "Nails" cigarette   
between his lips and lit it as he returned to his near-perpetual   
silence that gave him his name.  
Jay began yelling at his partner. He was of course ignored the   
whole way back to the small apartment that the pair shared.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
*Chibi Dude Slayer does official author's jig*  
  
CDS: *look around* Where is he? He was just here?  
  
*CVB walks onstage with CFF close behind*  
  
CVB: Dude, you gotta come see this. This is SO fucked up.  
CFF: Yeah. Dude Slayer's finally lost it.  
CDS: *looks shocked* No way! I knew he had a bad day today.   
With the dreams, and college, and the cops, and life in general. But   
he can't loose it.  
CVB: I think the speeding ticket was the final straw. He's been   
on a binge since he got back home today. Booze, pot, red meat, raw   
fucking red meat, right off the bone!  
  
*Chibi Firefingers slaps CVB upside his head*  
  
CFF: Stop quoting "Lock and Load"  
CVB: *rubs back of head* okay :(  
CDS: Okay, let's go check the boss out.  
  
  
*the chibis push open the door to The Dude Slayer's office*  
*The Dude Slayer is sitting in a high-backed leather office   
chair, a bottle of Wild Turkey in his left hand, a joint in his right,   
and a very large hamburger on his desk*  
  
*CVB sticks his tongue out* :P  
CVB: Told ya, didn't I? Booze, pot, and meat. He's fucked up I   
tell ya.  
CDS: *looks at TDS* Man, what happened. He's gone.  
  
TDS: *in a bad Scottish accent* Oh, Danny-boy! Oh, Danny-boy!   
I forgot the words to yer song so long ago. Oh, Danny-boy  
  
*the chibis face fault*  
Chibis: HE'S SINGING DANNY BOY!!!!!!  
*all three scream and run off*  
  
*TDS looks at the door and sighs. He tosses the empty bottle on   
the floor and puts out the home wrapped cigarette*  
TDS: Stupid chibis.  
*weakly TDS lays his head on the desk and forces himself to hold   
back a stream of tears that threaten to overtake him*  
  
  
*Vampboy walks to the podium and adjusts the microphone*  
  
VB: I apologize for that strange sight, everyone. Dude Slayer   
assures me it's not permanent. He's just under a lot of strain this   
month. And it's all piling up on him this week. His parents are   
bitching and harping at him, his instructors want work he doesn't have,   
he scratched the hell outta the front end of Zippy (his 2001 Camry),   
and to top it all off he just got nailed for speeding, finally.  
Dude, he does 90 in a 55 just to come home from class. His   
excuse is that he loves the open road. When there's no traffic he has   
an urge to just open the engine as far as it'll go and just race.   
That's why he named his car Zippy. Even though my Camero should be the   
one with that name. Oh well.  
  
*Firefingers walks onstage. Her fiery aura is gone*  
  
FF: Dude Slayer wanted me to remind you. He doesn't own Brodie,   
Jay, Silent Bob, or Brodie's Secret Stash. Kevin Smith, Miramax, and   
View Askew own them.  
Denis Leary owns himself, "Lock and Load", and McLeary's.   
Jessica (a friend of Ben's) and Ben both own Lillyanna. He also wishes   
to assure everyone that he is not a stoner, far from it. Dude Slayer   
finds no joy in relying on a chemical substance to survive. I think   
that covers everything, Vampboy you agree.  
  
VB: I think so. I got nothin' else to say. Oh yeah. All   
alcoholic beverages are owned by their respective companies. Too many   
to name.  
  
  
  
Well drop TDS a line at the_dude_slayer@alberta.com  
  
  
Ja ne 


	3. Stranger Things Have Happened

Barstool Sessions II  
Stranger Things Have Happened  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The morning sun was something Ben was unaccustomed to seeing when   
he woke up. Usually mid-day or late afternoon was when the laid-back   
bartender dragged himself from the black void he called a bedroom. But   
today was different.  
Ben rubbed his tired eyes as he felt the sunlight pushing through   
his thick velvety curtains. Weak and tired he pulled himself from the   
bed and made his way to the bathroom where his shower awaited. At   
least that had been the plan. Unfortunately he never made it out of   
the bed.  
The island native felt something pulling down on him as he tried   
to get out of the bed. It was a familiar feeling. There were arms   
wrapped around his chest, holding him. Ben wearily turned to look at   
the body attached to his.  
  
Short, face framing strawberry-blonde tresses covered the face of   
a woman that had easily wrapped herself around the bartender. Her   
curvaceous body was covered by a purple satin sheet.  
Not usually one to overreact Ben freed himself from the familiar   
woman's grasp and hurried from the room. Seconds later he was sitting   
in a very feminine bathroom.  
  
Ben splashed freezing water on his face a few times before he   
could bring himself to look in the mirror. Staring back at the usually   
carefree young man was a worried and deeply saddened version of   
himself. Ben sighed and leaned back against the door. "Not again.   
Goddess what's wrong with me?"  
  
  
  
The young blonde woman stepped into her kitchen, a vermilion robe   
covering her hourglass frame, to find a slightly distraught and   
familiar man at her table. A cup of French Vanilla coffee and a bottle   
of Scotch before him. Smiling slightly she stepped upto the man and   
wrapped her arms around him from behind.  
"Morning Benny."  
Ben flinched under the woman's touch. "Don't Mandy. Where's my   
duster, I wanna get going."  
Mandy frowned as she sat next to her guest. "Why, you only just   
got here. I mean we only did it twice."  
Ben took a sip of the "French-Irish" coffee and looked into the   
dark, steaming liquid. "Mandy, I just want my coat. Where is it? I   
need to get going."  
Mandy frowned. "Why? You seemed pretty content coming here last   
night. I mean you had me do things we hadn't done before." The young   
woman wrapped her arms around Ben again and whispered in his ear. "You   
were a nasty boy last night. We got reeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaal dirty. I   
didn't think you liked..."  
Ben stood up, cutting off Mandy's taunt. "Stop it Mandy. There's   
a reason I left you. I had to have been REALLY wasted to come back   
here and do what we did. But I don't want to know what we did, all   
right. I just want my duster so I can go home, shower, and hope to   
forget whatever we did."  
Mandy jumped up and stood her ground before Ben. "Why did you   
come back here last night? Huh? Why?"  
Ben stared down at her. His ice blue eyes gazed deeply into   
Mandy's chocolate brown eyes, burrowing deep into the woman before him.   
He could feel how angry the woman before him was. "I don't know. Maybe   
I just needed to get laid. Maybe I was so drunk I forgot where I was.   
I don't know, all I do know is I want to go home. And I need my duster   
to do that."  
Mandy slapped the man before her, causing his deeply tanned face   
to swing to the side with the force of the blow. "Dammit Ben, you love   
that goddamn coat more than you ever did me." Mandy wrapped her arms   
around herself as she pointed down the hall. "It's down there."  
Ben nodded as he retrieved his full-length leather trench coat.   
Silently he made his way to the front door, all the while he could hear   
Mandy sniffling back tears. Adding insult to injury Ben opened the   
door and looked back at Mandy. "If it helps any, I never loved you."   
Nothing more was said as he closed the door and retreated down the   
stairs.  
  
Mandy watched the door close, her arms unconsciously wrapped   
tighter around her body. "That's not what you said last night." Mandy   
broke out into painful sobs as she said that.  
  
  
  
  
The leather-clad bartender idled his Harley into the parking area   
of his apartment building. Silently Ben parked the bike and leaned   
over onto the handlebars. "Ugh. How drunk was I last night? Those   
fights with Lilly and Sheila must have been bothering me more than I   
thought.  
"Of course I haven't seen Sheila in almost two weeks. I guess   
she talked Denis into changing her schedule. And Lilly's barely said   
more than two words to me since then."  
Ben rested his head on his arms and sighed. "This month couldn't   
suck anymore." Ben took a deep breath and released it through clenched   
teeth.  
The bartender sighed heavily as he attempted to sort out the   
continuous problem that had become his life. But to no avail. Moments   
after the fated words had been a large overweight man can storming down   
the building's stairs.  
  
His thinning hair, beer belly, and white tank top gave the man   
the look of your average low rent, bad part of town, roach motel owner.  
"REILLY!!!!!!!!" the man yelled in a think Polish accent.  
The young bartender began hitting his head on the handlebars. "I   
was wrong." After a moment he looked up into the fuming face of his   
landlord. "Ja mine host?"  
The overweight man glared at the young bartender. "Rent, late."  
Ben returned the glare from behind his thick mirrored sunglasses.   
The former island boy was clearly pissed, as methodical (or cheap as   
Robbie would say) as he was Ben hated when people said he owed them   
money. Ben growled under his breath as he dismounted his motorcycle.   
A string of German and Japanese curses soon followed. The Polish   
man stood frozen as the words hit him. Never before had he heard such   
wording, the man speaking was adept at changing languages, it seemed as   
if everything he was saying was all from the same language.  
  
Ben's diatribe was finished with an exasperated sigh. "The money   
for my rent is in your office, Polestanki. Now leave me alone." With   
a flourish of leather, reminiscent of 18th century capes, the bartender   
spun on his heel and retreated to the warm interior of his apartment,   
leaving an awestruck and silent immigrant in his wake.  
  
  
  
  
Holden McNeil; comic book artist, New Jersey native, broke ass   
bum, sat in his studio apartment shooting hoops. His mind wandered   
over the events of the last few years.  
His stupid breakup with Alyssa, Banky kicking him out of their   
apartment, the end of "Bluntman and Chronic", the underground explosion   
of his one shot "Chasing Amy", and finally his teaming up with a young   
artist on a new comic.  
Seemingly Holden's luck had run out after "Bluntman and Chronic"   
had finished it's final issue. "Chasing Amy" had had a good run, but   
it too had been forgotten. Even his stint working on a series with an   
unknown had done nothing to help his dead career, even though his   
former partner now had a deal in the works with Darkhorse Comics for a   
thirty issue run of his series.  
  
Holden lobbed the basketball once more at the hoop in his studio   
apartment. Again the ball slid easily through the nylon net. Lazily   
the twenty-something artist let the ball bounce a few times before   
letting it roll across the cement floor of the studio.  
Holden slumped down on the familiar red couch that had once taken   
residence within his and Banky's old apartment. Idly he turned on the   
television and flipped through the channels, knowing nothing but soap   
operas and talk shows would be on at this time of the day. Not caring   
about the programs, Holden stopped on a series of commercials, one   
catching his attention.  
  
McLeary's Tavern. Just like 'Cheers' only no one knows your   
name. We only act like we do.  
Ben Reilly, Nightly Bartender and Relations Psychologist. Every   
night until closing.  
  
Holden flipped the television off and grabbed his jacket. He   
gave his watch a look. At this time of the day, he'd get to McLeary's   
just around 2:30. Not knowing if he'd be there, Holden grabbed the   
phone and dialed information. Maybe this Reilly guy could help him.  
  
  
  
  
  
Lillyanna stood before the full-length mirror in her living room.   
She could hear the music blaring from the bar beneath her. "Paint it   
Black" she noted with disapproval. With a glance at the clock on the   
wall she knew all she needed.  
"Ben won't be in for another hour." She straightened a single   
strand of hair that seemed content only when it fell directly in her   
line of sight. "It's been a week since I saw him. It wouldn't hurt if   
I just stopped in for a minute."  
Lillyanna pulled on her full-length trench coat with a sigh.   
"Not tonight, I'm not going to see him and appeal to his damned   
fetish." Carelessly she tossed the coat on the arm of the couch and   
looked once more at herself in the mirror.  
Tonight Lillyanna wore a long flowing black, pleated skirt with   
tiny amethysts sewn into it, a black halter style, frilled shirt with   
a tasseled bottom which seemed to be designed to increase cleavage, and   
a pair of black leather ankle boots. The tiny shirt was tied behind   
her neck and wrapped around her back, leaving little of her upper body   
covered.  
The young Wiccan gave herself a last look before she departed   
from her new home. Hopefully she'd run into Sheila before her shift   
ended. For the past few weeks Sheila had been working the shift just   
before Ben arrived, and she knew that it had to do with Ben's outburst   
a few weeks ago.  
  
  
  
Standing behind the bar Ben pulled a glass down from the   
row of hanging glasses. Slowly he began pouring a glass of Sweet   
Vermouth. Sheila stood before the bar, hands on hips. Lillyanna was a   
few stools down.  
"Dammit Ben, your drunk!" The Asian waitress screamed at her   
drink mixing counterpart.  
The islander slammed the bottle down on the bar and glared at the   
girls. "So what if I am! I know my own limits! I know what I can   
handle!" Ben waved an unsteady finger at Sheila. "You! You don't   
know anything about me!"  
Sheila growled as Ben glared at her. "DAMMIT! You're right, I   
don't know anything about you!" She turned from her friend and   
coworker. "That's because YOU won't let US know!"  
Ben picked up the bottle and returned it to its place on the back   
wall, in return he picked up a bottle of Margaritaville Tequila.   
"You're right, I don't let you in. And for good reason." As he spoke,   
the annoyed young man filled the glass with the amber liquid. "That's   
how I am, I DON'T let people in, because people HURT me when I do   
that."  
Lillyanna placed her hand over the bartender's as he reached for   
the glass of liver poison. "Ben. If you're so afraid of being hurt,   
then why do you help so many people?"  
Ben pulled his hand from the older woman. "I fear nothing!"  
Sheila reached over the expensive oak wood bar and grabbed the   
man, who was only a few shades darker than her, by his costly satin   
shirt. "Dammit Benjamin, stop being a macho pig! We know you're   
afraid of being hurt, why can't you just admit it as well?!"  
Ben pulled away from his coworker. "Why don't you mind your own   
GOD DAMNED business. I never asked for you to meddle in my life!"   
Having said his part the slightly inebriated bartender swallowed what   
was left of his drink and stormed from his place of business.  
Sheila turned to the woman beside her and glared. "You! This is   
your fault!"  
Lillyanna looked confused at the accusation. "My fault? What do   
you mean my fault?"  
"You know he prides himself on being fearless, and you go and   
point out his biggest self-lie!" Sheila grabbed her coat off the stool   
next to her and stormed out of McLeary's. "I hope you're happy!" The   
door slammed loudly in the empty bar.  
  
  
Lillyanna stepped into the bar from the back stairwell. Slowly   
her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the bar. What usually seemed like   
a bright and enjoyable place now seemed to be filled with a sense of   
dread and despair. McLeary's was no longer the place it had been.  
From her vantage point a few feet above the rest of the crowd   
Lillyanna could see the mid-shift bartender behind the bar, Joey, was   
attempting to awe the crowd with a few of Ben's maneuvers, which he   
failed at every time. Shaking her head Lilly made her way across the   
floor of the bar to where she had seen Denis sitting.  
  
The tavern's owner dutifully scanned over a few dozen ledgers,   
papers, bills, and other assorted papers on the table before him. With   
an upset look on his face he reached out for his ever-handy pack of   
Marlboros. Placing one of the powerful cancer sticks between his lips   
Denis began patting himself down, attempting to find his lighter.  
A second later a light appeared before his lips, gently torching   
the tip of the carcinogenic item. Denis flinched for a second as he   
looked upto who was on the other end of the light. Carefully he puffed   
away until the cigarette was smoking gently.  
The bar owner gently pushed the chair across from him away from   
the table, signaling the woman to sit. She complied. Denis smiled as   
he tapped the ash off the tip of his smoke. "Isn't it usually the   
bartender that lights a person's smoke?" His voice held its usual   
snide attitude, but was also carefree and enjoyable.  
Lillyanna smiled. "Yes, but I don't see Ben anywhere, do you?"  
Denis watched the woman before him as she spoke. Though he   
wasn't as skilled at reading people as Ben was, Denis could tell that   
even saying Ben's name was a little harsh.  
  
Denis knew about the fights between his bartender, waitress, and   
tenant, he also knew that the three friends were all hurting over it.   
Ben's pride prevented him from making the first move to repairing   
things. Lillyanna's insecurity within the trio hampered her from   
making a move. And Sheila's feelings of betrayal by her friends made   
her incapable of making the move.  
Denis took a long drag off his cancer stick, slowly releasing the   
smoke into the air. Lazily he looked across the table at the comely   
young woman before him. "He's working tonight."  
Lillyanna jerked up at Denis' words. "What?" she asked somewhat   
surprised. "Who is?"  
Denis glared slightly at his young tenant. "That's not funny.   
Who else works everyday with no arguments? He'll be working 'til   
close, so will Sheila. If you want to fix things with them tonight's   
your best chance. After Sheila put in that request for the mid-shift   
it's been hard to schedule her and Ben together, and I never have any   
idea what kind of schedule you have."  
Denis took a small drag from his smoke. "Come to think of it,   
what do you do for a job?" The comedian-actor asked in a very curious   
manner. "I've never seen you do any kind of work."  
Lillyanna smiled sheepishly at her landlord. "Heh. I don't like   
talking about my job much. It kind of puts ideas in people's heads."  
Denis gave the young woman a sideways glance. "I'm a comedian,   
try me."  
Lillyanna sighed as she looked around the bar for a moment. Her   
attention stopped on Denis. "Versachi."  
The comedian lifted an eyebrow in confusion. "Huh? What did you   
just say?"  
"I said 'Versachi'. As in the clothing designer. I started as   
an intern, but one of the designers got fired during one of my shifts.   
My supervisor was complaining about not having enough designs for the   
upcoming Christmas line, so I told her I had some ideas. She laughed   
at first, until I drew out the design for a dress. I don't remember   
now who wore it, but some celeb wore it to the Oscars that year."  
Denis nodded as he punched out his smoke. "So, you're a   
designer. That's cool. Maybe I'll have you do my next outfit for when   
I'm on TV next, he said in a joking manner.  
Lilly smiled. "Let's hope you can afford the bosses prices."   
The young woman giggled slightly as a look of fear crossed Denis'   
older, mature features.  
  
  
  
  
Night had settled gently upon the United States Eastern seaboard,   
specifically New York City. The night was still young and a generous   
crowd still milled about on the busy streets of the "City that never   
sleeps." Among this crowd walked one confused and lonely artist.  
Holden gingerly wandered the streets of New York City. The   
operator had been nice enough to give him the bar's address, but had   
left out directions.  
The young artist looked down at the directions he'd printed off   
the Internet. He was on the right street, but he couldn't seem to find   
the tavern. With a sigh of defeat Holden crumpled the paper and slid   
it into his pocket. Lazily Holden lifted his eyes to see a sparsely   
filled pizzeria, with that his stomach gave a growl.  
  
  
Ben sat at a table near the front door, as always he faced the   
door refusing to not see the building's exit. At the ringing of the   
front door's bell the auburn bartender looked up to see a man enter.   
His stance and facial features showed that he was lost and hungry. Ben   
watched as the man walked to the front counter and ordered a slice.  
The young bartender noticed the slightly older man's outward   
appearance reminded him of someone he'd seen once a few years back,   
just before he'd left Key West. Shaking his head gingerly and blinking   
Ben stabbed at his stromboli and stuffed a forkful of the meaty, cheese   
covered dough in his mouth. Ben shrugged the recognition off as   
someone he'd met at Sloppy Joe's or another bar back on the island.  
  
  
Holden ordered a slice of pizza and paid for his meal. As he   
paid the counter man a thought struck him. "Hey," he said casually.  
The cashier looked up from the draw. "Yeah?" he asked in a thick   
Bronx accent.  
"I'm kinda lost. I was wondering if you knew how to find   
McLeary's Tavern?"  
The cashier handed Holden his change and smirked. "Lookin' fer   
da An'ser man? Talk ta da guy in da leatah trench. He nose da place."   
The cashier pointed over Holden's shoulder to a tanned man sitting by   
himself, the person wore what looked to be a heavy leather trenchcoat,   
even though it was a warm night.  
Holden thanked the cashier and walked over to the leather-clad   
man. The artist stood before the man for a moment before sitting down   
across from him. As he stood there for a moment a feeling of   
recognition surrounded the darkly-clad man before him. Holden waited   
to be recognized.  
  
Ben looked over the pile of newsprint sitting on the table. As   
engrossed as he was in the story, of Bush's failed attempt at getting   
Sadam to allow UN forces into Iraq again, Ben still noticed the man sit   
across from him. The island native turned the page he'd just finished   
and took a swig from the bottle of Jack Daniel's Hard Cola before him.  
Without looking up Ben spoke, his voice even and unobtrusive.   
"Who are you, and what do you want?" Ben's hidden eyes continued their   
movement down the page as he waited on the man before him to speak.  
The man before him grabbed Holden's attention. 'Silent Bob.   
That's why he seems so familiar. Facial features, indifferent   
attitude, long hair, trench coats, if this guy wasn't ten years younger   
and tan I'd swear they were twins.'  
Ben turned the page once more. "You're only wasting your time.   
When I'm done eating I'm leaving whether you've asked your question or   
not." Lazily Ben placed another forkful of stromboli in his mouth as   
he continued to read.  
Shaken from his thoughts by Ben's attitude, Holden finally spoke.   
"I'm kinda lost. I was wondering if you knew how to get to McLeary's   
Tavern? I've been looking for the past hour."  
Ben scoffed as he closed the newspaper. "Looking for Ben are we?   
Let me guess, relationship problem, girlfriend fall for your roommate?   
Man, why do people think Reilly knows all the answers, the guy's just a   
bartender." Ben's head tilted slightly as his eyes narrowed. "A   
mediocre one at that."  
  
With a confused look Holden watched the man before him. "You   
know this guy, I guess?"  
Ben scoffed again. "You could say that. Seriously, why do you   
want to see him?"  
Holden slouched in his seat slightly. "That depends. I want to   
know how to find him. If you point me in the right direction, I'll   
tell you."  
Ben lowered his mirrored sunglasses to get a better look at the   
older man before him. His eyes roamed over man before him; unshaven,   
pale complexion, and big hair. "Jersey."  
"What?"  
Ben pushed his shades back up on his nose. "You're from Jersey."   
It was a statement more than a question.  
Holden looked slightly uncomfortable. "Uh...well, yeah. I am.   
What's the problem with that?"  
Ben finished his drink and pushed the bottle aside. "Nothing. I   
just pride myself on being able to know where people are from. The   
Tri-Town area, right?"  
"Red Bank, yeah. You know the Tri-Town?" Holden seemed   
genuinely confused that a New Yorker would know the Jersey Tri-Town.   
The last person he met that knew the area turned out to be a lesbian   
that broke his heart.  
Ben smirked slightly. "Friend of mine attended Henry Hudson.   
I've also got a few subscriptions at Brodie's Secret Stash."  
Holden smiled. "Okay."  
  
  
  
  
McLeary's was a hustle and bustle of energy, as it was every   
night that their famed bartender worked. Tonight was no different. As   
Denis stood on the second floor, watching his investment happily, he   
took appraisal of the number of people that seemed content to just sit   
or stand around drinking anything if they could have even a chance to   
talk to the bartender.  
Denis knew from the moment he'd seen Ben, at that little   
thatched-hut bar, on Key West that he had to make the bartender his.   
It took two years of HARD negotiations to get the bartender to come   
with him, Ben seemed to have an obsession with staying on Key West.   
Since the day Ben began working for him Denis knew that hiring Ben had   
been the second best investment of his life, the first being McLeary's.  
As the hour droned on Denis noticed that it had grown   
significantly more quite, something he'd slowly become used to.   
Without having to look at the clock over the bar Denis knew that his   
prize barman would soon be entering the building. It seemed to be some   
kind of strange ritual among the regulars, as the beginning of Ben's   
shift neared the bar slowly began to quite of all voices, save the   
jukebox. Denis smiled as he listened to the one hundred and fifty or   
so voices slowly droned into near complete silence, any moment now.  
  
  
  
Lillyanna sat at an empty table against the wall furthest from   
the bar. Denis had been right, if anyone was going to get the trio   
talking again, it would have to be her. Ben was too damn prideful, a   
trait she was surprised that hadn't killed him yet, and Sheila was   
feeling betrayed, a feeling Lillyanna had come to know well.  
Gingerly the young designer sipped at her white wine as she took   
survey of her surroundings. Still early in the night, but just before   
Ben's shift. She knew due to the growing silence in the bar, every   
night was the same, the silence seemed to start with one person and   
move its way through the bar like a living being. Lillyanna had once   
mentioned it to Ben who brushed it aside with his ever constant smile   
and laugh.  
  
  
Sheila walked around the room picking up empty glasses and   
bottles, clearing tables, and collecting tips when she noticed it. It   
was gradual, but quickly became obvious. The room was quieting,   
drastically. It was growing so quiet that someone had actually turned   
the jukebox down to a level that wasn't eardrum bursting.  
The young waitress had nothing against the Rolling Stones, you   
couldn't working at McLeary's, but the level of the jukebox could on   
occasion be painful to one's hearing. Sheila placed her tray on the   
bar and looked at Joey as he poured a shot of tequila and slid it down   
the polished surface.  
  
"Hey Sheila." Joey spoke with a gentle New England accent, more   
intone with Vermont and Maine than New York City.  
Sheila nodded, "Hey Joe." She quickly began filling her try with   
more bottles and mugs of beer. The coming silence meant something she   
didn't want to deal with.  
Joey placed the bottle of tequila down and turned to the older   
woman. "Can you believe this? It's like this everyday. A few minutes   
before Ben shows up this place seems like the whole world stops, but   
once the guy shows up it seems as if everything had just continued like  
nothing happened." The young bartender popped the cap off of a bottle   
of Sam Adams Lite. "Weird, isn't it? I've never seen anything at all   
like it."  
Sheila placed a last mug on the tray and lifted it. "Ben has a   
way with people. The customers all seem to have some kind of respect   
for him. It's his nature to demand respect, and from the customers   
it's well earned. He's helped most of these people out with some of   
the strangest problems they've ever faced."  
Joey nodded as he placed the open bottle before a random   
customer. "I hope that someday I can be half as good as he is."  
Sheila walked back into the crowd, her tray lifting over people's   
heads. "Let's just hope that you'll remember who your friends are and   
why they're your friends if you ever do."  
  
  
  
  
The doors to McLeary's opened slowly, the only sound in what   
seemed like the whole building. In the doorway stood two men. The   
first one stood slightly over six feet tall with long, blonde hair. He   
wore a black beanie over his well cared for hair, and a bright yellow   
winter coat, with an orange Quick Stop shirt under it.  
The second man was a few inches shorter, with shorter black hair   
that came just to his shoulders. He wore a beige Mooby baseball cap   
backwards. In his lips lay a lit Nails cigarette. The shorter man   
wore a heavy green trenchcoat with black lining. His bearded face   
showed the intelligence that his partner seemed to lack.  
The taller man looked into the silent bar for a moment before   
speaking. "Anyone know where I can get me some phat pussy?! Me and   
Lunchbox here are lookin' for..." his fast spoken words were cut off by   
a strong hand falling on his shoulder.  
  
Ben stood behind the pair of men for a moment waiting to see what   
the taller man would say to his silent tavern. As expected the blonde   
fell into one of his familiar idiotic rants. With a defeated sigh the   
bartender reached out and grabbed the taller man.  
"JAY!" Ben's words were loud and harsh, while at the same time   
somewhat sympathetic and obviously annoyed. With a hard pull the young   
barman turned the young stoner around, without being forced the shorter   
man seemed to mimic the movement. "How many times do I have to tell   
you?! Keep away from my bar!"  
Jay looked into the covered eyes of the familiar bartender.   
Angry, annoyed, and slightly bored, Jay could see all the emotions   
there, but as always acted as if he didn't. "What the fuck?! Get yer   
fucking hands off me bitch." A gentle shove forced the stronger man's   
grip to give out. "What are you some kinda fucking fag? Touchin'   
another guy and all that shit." Jay turned to his silent partner.   
"Look at this fucker, Silent Bob. All touchy-feely and shit, I always   
told ya this guy was a fucking fag."  
Silent Bob's attention shifted from his loud, obnoxious,   
heterosexual, life-mate to the man standing next to the bartender.   
Almost the same height as Jay, he struck Bob as one of the most   
familiar people in his life. Immediately he slapped his partner and   
pointed to the other man.  
Jay slapped his partner back and looked to where he was pointing.   
"Holden Fucking McNeil! What the fuck?! I always figured you were   
gay, fuckin' Alyssa and Banky, but shit, man. Don't you have any   
standards? You doin' this bar trash now?!"  
Holden looked slightly confused. "Jay? What the hell are you   
babbling about?"   
  
Fed up with the triad going on Ben reached into his coat pocket   
and pulled out a cell phone. "Jay, I'm giving you to the count of four   
before I punch your ass out and call the cops. I know you've got   
enough weed on you for them to keep you overnight at least. One," Ben   
quickly tapped in two numbers on the phone.  
Jay glared at the older man. "Try it bitch. I dare ya."  
Ben shook his head gently as he punched in two more numbers.   
"Two. I suggest you and your silent friend leave."  
"Fuck you." Jay crossed his arms over his chest, defiantly. At   
the same moment Bob chose to gently puff his chest out and nod.  
Holden watched the exchange quizzically. He'd never seen Jay and   
Bob so defiant before, but at the same time there was a hint of   
playfulness to Bob's actions, almost like it was a game to the trio.  
"Not if you were that last bitch in the jail block, Bitch.   
Three." Two more buttons.  
Bob saw the seriousness in the bartender this time. It wasn't a   
game tonight; Ben was serious about the cops. Usually he'd get to   
three and then push past Jay, but for some reason tonight their little   
game was serious. Ben wasn't joking around this time.  
Bob grabbed his loudmouthed friend and quickly began pulling him   
away. "What the fuck, Lunchbox?!" Bob shook his head at Jay as he   
pulled him away.  
As the pair walked away Ben could see Silent Bob's patented   
movement-speech as he told his tall friend to just let things go.   
Without a word the island bartender closed his phone and placed it back   
in his pocket. "Gods those two piss me off sometimes." Ben pulled his   
long ponytail tighter as he walked to the door. "Stoners..." A low   
guttural growl escaped from Ben's throat.  
  
Holden watched as the pair of stoners made their escape. He'd   
seen Jay and Bob run from things before, but he'd never seen Bob scared   
of anyone before. Holden's attention returned to the man standing   
before him. "Coming?" Ben asked.  
Quickly the New Jersey native caught upto the younger man. After   
that little display he wasn't sure he wanted to piss him off.  
  
  
The door to McLeary's opened without a sound. The inside of the   
tavern was totally silent, the jukebox had even been silenced. All the   
patrons gathered waiting anxiously as they watched the pair of men   
enter the bar. In a single voice that seemed full of happiness and   
glee two words escaped the mouths of nearly every person in the   
building. "HEY BEN!"  
Sheila stood against the wall watching as the man made his way   
across the room to his second home behind the bar. "What is this,   
Cheers?!" Ben yelled out jokingly. Even from across the room Sheila   
could tell that something was bothering her bartender. For some reason   
he walked as if something or someone had just pissed him off, a hard   
task that few had mastered or even accomplished when he was sober.  
  
Lillyanna grinned as she heard the entire room greet her friend.   
Somehow he had worked his way into the life of nearly every person in   
the room. Hopefully by the end of the night she would work her way   
back into his life. The best way to begin was be confrontation.   
Steeling herself, Lillyanna picked herself up and began making her way   
to the kitchen/locker room.  
  
  
  
Holden reached out and grabbed the other man's leather-clad arm.   
"Hold on a minute." Forcibly he turned the younger man around.  
Ben spun on his booted heel. "Don't..." With a gentle force,   
Ben shook Holden off his arm. "touch me." With a quick jerk of his   
coat's neck, the bartender straightened his duster. "What?"  
A quizzical look crossed Holden's face as he looked at the man   
before him. "You're Ben? You're the guy I've been looking for?"   
Holden's voice slowly grew in pitch and desperation. "I spent all   
night looking for you and this bar, and I find you in a fucking pizza   
joint?"  
Ben smirked. "Yeah, so? It happens. What, you thought I lived   
in this place? I may spend ungodly amounts of time here but I do have   
a life outside booze, drunks, and stories that other people could   
figure out themselves."  
Holden's gaze slowly turned to a glare as he listened to the   
younger man rant. "So all those things I told you at the pizzeria..."  
Ben removed his sunglasses and placed them into his coat's inner   
pocket. "McNeil. Everything you told me..." The young bartender ran   
his hand down his face. "Look, stick around to the end of the night.   
I'll talk to you more then. You put a lot of things on my mind, I need   
time to think them over."  
Ben looked up at the second floor, his eyes catching with Denis'.   
A tiny grin crossed his face as he turned back to Holden. "Okay, look.   
Head upstairs. You'll get special treatment tonight; you can stick   
around until I close up, the owner won't mind. Just tell him you're my   
guest."  
Holden attempted to argue, but it was cut short as Ben removed   
his duster and made his way to behind the bar. The cartoonist gave the   
room an unsteady gaze as he made his way to the staircase, "This is   
gonna be a LONG night."  
  
Ben hung his duster in his locker and pulled out a clean towel,   
which he placed on his left shoulder. With a deep sigh the young man   
placed his head against the cold metal of his locker. "This is gonna   
be one long night."  
"Hey Surfer, want a hand with that burden?" The voice was eerily   
familiar, and soothingly feminine.  
"Ugh." Ben slowly rotated his head to the left to get a better   
look at the only other person in the room. Just as lazily he rotated   
his eyes back to looking at the floor. "Lilly. What are you doing   
here? I figured you'd be one of the last people in New York that'd   
want to see me."  
Quietly the young woman made her way across the room. "Wouldn't   
be much of a friend if I let you yelling at me and Sheila, when you   
were drunk I might add, keep me away."  
Ben scoffed gently. "Figures. Look, I'm sorry 'bout that night.   
I wasn't exactly all in my right mind. I really haven't since I got   
back from Key West a few months ago. The guy you met and have been   
hanging out with isn't me. I'm just a happy-go-lucky bartender that   
likes surfing, animè, and helping people. Ever since I went home I   
lost sight of my priorities..."  
"Shut up."  
"...I don't even know what I'm...what'd you say?" Ben's   
attention turned back to the woman standing next to him.  
The fashion designer chuckled gently at her friend's confusion.   
"I told you to shut up. You're rambling." Gently Lillyanna reached   
out and placed her small hands on Ben's confused face. "I like you   
just the way you are. You're the first person I met in this town that   
didn't immediately lie to me. You're the first person I met that   
actually seemed to care about someone other than yourself. You're the   
first person I met that even seemed to take a liking in me, when you   
didn't even know who I was."  
Lillyanna's hands moved down from her friend's face to his   
shoulders. "I don't care who you think you are. I know who you are.   
You're Ben Reilly, 'Bartenderis Exceptionalis'. You're one of a kind,   
there's no doubt about that, but you're also my friend." Cautiously   
the twenty-something fashion designer wrapped her arms around the   
athletic bartender. Soon the pair was in a full hug.  
Ben grinned slightly. "Sometimes I really wonder what you people   
see in me."  
"Same here, you beach bum."  
  
  
  
From the door of the kitchen a solitary person watched the   
interaction. Sharply Asian features watched the conversation as it had   
progressed. Sheila had accidentally walked in on the pair as Ben had   
begun his heartfelt apology.  
Slowly Sheila backed out of the door. "Glad they're happy."  
"Get yer hot Asian tail back in here." The voice froze Sheila in   
her tracks. "If I'm gettin' all emotional I'm only doin' it ONCE   
tonight." Ben's grin had blown up into a full-sized shit-eating grin.  
  
Ben and Lillyanna stood next to each other grinning. "What? Ya   
thought I wouldn't notice TWO of you walking in on me? I maybe crazy   
but I'm not stupid. Being slightly empathic does have some advantages,   
ya know?"  
"I don't want to step in on your moment. Anyway, last time we   
talked you yelled at me, what's there to say now?" Sheila leaned   
against the doorframe, hands on hips.  
Ben took a deep breath and sighed. "Okay, look. I'm an ass, I   
know that and I apologize, alright? But I was serious too. You two   
don't know me nearly as well as you think you do. But you were right   
Sheila, I haven't given either of you a chance to either."  
  
  
The moment of seriousness was broken as a shattered mirror. In   
the doorway stood Denis, a lit cigarette in one hand and an annoyed   
look on his face. "What the hell's going on in here? I've got a full   
bar out there and Joey's dying. Ben, grab your towel and hit the bar.   
Sheila, get a tray and fill some orders. Lillyanna, if you don't mind,   
I could us another waitress to keep these two on their toes tonight."  
  
The trio exchanged a glance with each other and then looked to   
Denis. For a moment no one said anything. As the seconds slipped by,   
the two women heard a tiny rumble. It was the familiar sound of Ben   
chuckling.  
"On it boss-man." Ben pulled the towel off his shoulder and   
jogged past the two women and his boss. His jovial chuckling could be   
heard as he made his way to the bar.  
Sheila watched as the tanned bartender made his way to his lover.   
After a millisecond she turned to Denis. "Sure thing Denis." She   
quickly followed Ben's escape.  
  
Lillyanna and Denis were left alone in the room, after a moment's   
silence Lillyanna reached into a locker and pulled out a McLeary's   
apron. Quickly she tied the black apron with the McLeary's logo around   
her waist. "Sure thing Denis. Goddess knows those two need someone   
looking after them."  
With a gentle smile at the older man, Lillyanna grabbed a tray   
and order pad and made her way into the lounge area. The young fashion   
designer made no assumptions about her first night as a waitress. She   
was just glad to have her friends back.  
  
Denis smirked as the trio made their way to their jobs. "All it   
takes is a little persuasion and their like putty in your hands." With   
a tiny evil chortle Denis took a drag from his cancer stick before   
heading back to his office. There was always paperwork that needed to   
be completed.  
  
  
  
  
  
Holden sat at the bar watching the two women count their tips.   
The night had gone over without a single problem. It seemed that in   
this place the bartender was king, all the patrons respected that. To   
them Ben was more than a bartender, to some he was a friend, to others   
he was a source of limitless knowledge, and to a few he was just a   
spectacle to watch.  
It had become obvious to Holden from the moment he'd entered   
McLeary's that Ben was more than a bartender to these people. No one   
that left this tavern ever thought of him as just a bartender. The two   
women that had worked tonight proved that. The Asian one, even though   
she seemed upset at Ben, treated him with the respect of someone that   
knew far more than they let on. The other girl, who he thought was   
pretty cute, was more at ease around the younger man.  
  
Ben looked down the bar at the older man. He seemed lost in   
thought, a state of mind that Ben himself tended to be in often. The   
young barkeep smirked as he placed a wine glass on the hanging rack   
over his head. As the attentive, sage-like island boy cleaned his work   
place he began to hum a familiar tune, which he soon replaced with the   
steady whistle of said tune.  
"'Help' by the Beatles."  
Ben grinned as he looked over to Holden. "Good guess. Most   
people don't recognize the classics anymore. Try this one." Ben   
cleared his throat for a moment before whistling a new tune. This one   
was slower and more melodramatic, with a slightly jazz beat.  
Holden looked confused. "I dunno."  
Ben grinned and snickered as he cleaned a shot glass. "Steely   
Dan, 'Any World.' Not their best, but I like it." Gently he stacked   
the glass on the rack behind the bar before turning his attention to   
Holden. "So, you ready to hear my thoughts, or what?"  
Holden finished off his beer and nodded. "Yeah. I've been   
sitting here all night waiting on you."  
Ben grinned as he pulled the towel off his shoulder and dried his   
hands. "Confucius say, 'Rush not the knowledge you wish to gain, for   
in the end you will gain nothing.'"  
  
Lillyanna dropped her tray on the bar. "Confucius never said   
that! You just made that up."  
Ben grinned and chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck.   
"Yeah, well...it sounded sage-like, right? Right?!"  
Both Holden and Lilly scoffed at the younger man's bad attempt at   
humor. Lillyanna picked up her tray and made her way to the kitchen   
area. As she passed Holden, she tapped his shoulder.  
Leaning down the brunette woman whispered to Holden, "Listen to   
him. He may act like an idiot, but he's pretty astute." Standing up   
she looked at Ben, "Benny. I'll be in back cleaning if you need me."  
"Ok." Tentatively Ben watched as she walked through the door.   
Just as Lillyanna passed the threshold Ben piped up. "And don't call   
me Benny. That's an Irish name, I'm a Scot."  
With a huff Ben turned back to Holden and scowled slightly. "She   
just loves getting under my skin. The problem is she's far too good at   
it. Another beer?"  
Holden nodded and rewarded with another bottle of Pete's Wicked   
Ale. Something Denis felt was an insult to real beer.  
"Where to start?" Ben sighed as he reached behind his head, his   
slender fingers tugged on the tiny black elastic band holding his   
ponytail up. His long, thick auburn hair fell gently onto, and past,   
his broad shoulders. "I am not at all awed by what you've told me.   
Actually, some of the things you told me mirror things that have   
happened in my own life. So, lemme say that I understand."  
Holden scoffed. "Yeah right. How many guys do you know that   
have nearly forced their girlfriend, who they love and loves him back,   
and his best friend, of who knows how many years, into a fucking   
threesome!" A slight tinge of venom could be seen in Holden's deep   
brown eyes, but under that there was the obvious sight of regret.  
Ben calmly stared down the irate man as he filled a mug with   
beer. "Your lucky. I actually succeed. I've had every straight man's   
fantasy. Two women at once." Gingerly he sipped at the beer before   
placing it on the bar-top. Ben's deep ice blue eyes were downcast,   
searching the dark liquid before him, as if it had the answers.  
"Men the world over have been envious of me for that one simple   
act. If they knew what it cost me, they'd pity me first." Ben's eyes   
rose from the glass of Guinness and met Holden's. "In a way I envy   
you. You lucked out; your friends spared you the pain of that mistake.   
You may have lost your friends due to your suggestion, but trust me.   
It would have been worse had you gone through with it, trust me."  
  
Holden sat quietly as Ben spoke, slowly the artist began to calm   
down and his anger turned to sympathy. As he listened he noticed that   
the young man before him really did understand him. This bartender   
standing before him really seemed to understand, more than he thought   
anyone would.  
Holden drained his glass before sliding it to Ben. "I'm sorry, I   
didn't know."  
Ben gave a tiny, gentle smile. "Its no big deal." Ben picked   
the glass up and placed it in the sink behind the bar. "Now about your   
other problem."  
Holden sighed as he watched the younger man wipe his hands on the   
towel that he'd been carrying on his shoulder all night. "Yeah, about   
that, what do you suggest?"  
Ben sighed as he swirled the dark, frothy liquid in his mug. "I   
suggest nothing. I can't tell you how to get your friend back. Banky   
left, that's all there is to that. Give him time to forget what   
happened; then approach him. Don't talk like old friends, because   
you're not any longer, talk like two mature adults that have something   
of importance to discuss. But don't start off your conversation with   
that, be careful and start off with something safe.  
"Alyssa is gone. I'm sorry, but you lost her. Maybe someday   
you'll find her again, but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you.   
There are other women out there, find one you like and take things from   
there. And whatever you do, don't ask about the ex-boyfriend, that's   
always dangerous territory with any woman."  
Ben threw back his head and downed all of the liquid in the mug.   
With a loud whoop he slammed the glass on the bar. "If I can do   
anything with the things I've learned from my mistakes, I'll make sure   
no man makes them again."  
  
Holden's eyes had drifted to the bar. His heavy breathing was   
the only sound that could be heard in the empty tavern. The artist's   
mind wrapped around the things the bartender told him. Much of it were   
things that had seemed obvious to him, but things like his being lucky   
not to have succeeded with his plan were so unexpected that he didn't   
know how to react.  
  
  
Lillyanna had pulled her apron off and stuffed it in the locker   
she'd gotten it from. Behind her, placing her own apron away, was   
Sheila. With a deep breath Lillyanna turned around. "Sheila, can we   
talk? Woman to woman?"  
Sheila turned around to face the brunette woman before her. A   
quizzical look crossed Sheila's gentle Asian features. "What about?"  
Lillyanna fidgeted nervously, she was never very good at   
confrontations like this. "It's about Ben."  
Sheila turned and pulled her bag from the locker. "I'd rather   
not." She closed the locker door heavily. "I've known him longer than   
you have, and what he's said is right. He doesn't open up, to anyone.   
Ben likes his secrets; it gives him a feeling of control over what he   
feels is a chaotic life." Sheila swung the brown teddy bear bag over   
her shoulder.  
"Besides that. He's also our friend. He deserves a second   
chance. You owe him that much." Lillyanna's deep brown eyes, which   
seemed to take on a muddy green tint, looked pleadingly at the other   
woman. "He did get you and Chang together, didn't he?"  
The familiar face of Chang, Sheila's lover flashed through the   
woman's mind. Deep black hair that looked as dark as night, perfectly   
shaped almond brown eyes, tan skin that covered the thin form of a   
martial artist... Sheila shook her head to clear the thoughts.   
"Alright, you win. I'll give him a chance."  
Lillyanna smiled happily as she jumped at the taller woman,   
Sheila only stood a head taller than Lilly, embracing her in a bone   
breaking hug. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you. You won't regret   
your decision." The joyful young Wicca released her friend from her   
grasp with a giggle.  
Sheila couldn't help but smile. Lillyanna's smiles seemed   
slightly contagious. "Let's hope not."  
Together the pair walked to the entrance to the tavern. Just   
before the door leading to the tavern area the women stopped. They   
could easily hear Ben's voice on the other side. It seemed that he'd   
slipped into 'Advice-Mode' and was helping his latest pseudo-psychology   
target.  
This time it was different. Ben wasn't just giving advice, this   
time he was speaking openly. His voice carried none of his usual sage   
attitude, now he was speaking with a slight hint of resentment and pain   
in his voice. The sounds of his Caribbean accent could be heard   
slipping into his speech.  
  
  
Ben placed his glass into the sink with Holden's. "Trust me when   
I say I understand you man. I grew up in Key West. Sexual tolerance   
was taught to us along with our ABCs. Hell, the majority of my exes   
back home were either bisexual or have gone straight to lesbian."  
Holden looked up at the man before him. Even though he couldn't   
see his face Holden knew that he was speaking the truth. "Doesn't that   
make you feel insecure? Knowing that you're the last guy they slept   
with? Kinda says you were so bad that it completely turned them off   
from men all together."  
Ben's tightly muscular chest rose and fell with the obvious   
sounds of laughter. It was soon followed with the howl of laughter   
that escaped Ben.  
After close to a minute of pure laughter the bartender had been   
forced to grab onto the strong oak bar to keep his balance. As he   
leaned on the bar Ben began hyperventilating as he gasped for breath.  
Ben's strong hand pounded on his chest as he tried to regain his   
breath. After a number of failed tries Ben finally stopped laughing   
and looked up at the people before him. Concern etched on all their   
faces.  
  
The sound of uninhibited laughter reached the second story of the   
tavern. Denis recognized the sound as Ben laughing. Curious the older   
man exited his office and made his way to the tavern floor.  
Before he even touched the bottom of the staircase, the comedian   
could see something unusual. Ben was bent over the bar gasping for   
breath. Concerned for his favorite bartender's health the building's   
owner made a mad dash for the bar.  
  
From the back room the sound of laughter was obvious. Ben's loud   
explosion of glee had been unexpected. The outburst had easily   
frightened the pair of women listening to the story.  
Sheila, having known Ben longest, turned from the tavern to the   
other woman. "Well that was unexpected."  
Lillyanna tore her eyes from her friend. "Quite. Opening up to   
a complete stranger, sharing that bad a memory, and then busting a gut   
like that. I swear I'll never understand that man."  
Sheila watched as Ben fell onto the bar gasping for air. "Ben!"   
With a shout she threw the doors open and ran into the tavern,   
Lillyanna close behind her.  
  
As Ben pushed himself off the bar, he wiped his eyes free of   
tears. "Oh." He wiped his eyes again, his breathing heavy and uneven.   
"That...was good. Insecure, HA!" Ben grabbed his side in slight pain.   
"Please, don't do that. I'll open an old wound if I laugh like that   
again."  
Ben took a deep breath as he looked at Holden. "No McNeil, I   
don't feel bad about it. The first time I did, but after a while I   
turned the whole thing around. I soon began telling myself that after   
having such a perfect specimen of the male gender of the human race,   
that those women were so satisfied that no man would ever do again."   
Ben's slightly pained features contorted into a deep, happy,   
unexpected, shit-eating grin.  
His grin was soon replaced by a look of pain as a pair of   
feminine hands connected with the back of Ben's head. "PIG!" Ben's   
neck jerked forward from the force of the hits. "OW!"  
  
Sheila and Lillyanna glared at Ben, one on each side. Lilly   
stood with her arms crossed under her voluptuous, heaving bosom.   
Sheila's long acrylic nails rapped on the highly polished bar top as   
she drummed her fingers on it.  
"That..." Sheila stated angrily.  
"...had to..." Lillyanna continued venomously.  
"...be the most..."  
"...sexist comment..."  
"...you have..."  
"...EVER MADE!!!" the pair finished in perfect unison, each voice   
was filled with equal parts venom and anger.  
"Do you have anything to say for yourself?!" Lillyanna growled.  
Ben gently rubbed his head as he looked from one woman to the   
other and back. "What CAN I say?!" His words were pleading and   
curious, as if he knew that whatever he said would sound fake. "Yer   
both angry at how Ah deal with mah problems." Without noticing, Ben's   
voice had slipped back into his natural, relaxed Southern. "At the   
lowest points in yer life, ya need a way ta pick yaself up. And Ah   
did, all it took was some twistin' the views of things but it worked,   
an that's what matters. Right?"  
  
Quietly Denis and Holden succeed in removing themselves from the   
erupting argument. Denis had grabbed Holden by the collar of his shirt   
and pulled him from his stool and towards one of the tables near the   
front door.  
"Is he gonna be okay?" Holden asked with a hint of fear in his   
voice. The man that had put the worst of his problem into perspective   
was now in a position where he needed help himself.  
Denis placed a reassuring hand on the younger man's shoulder.   
"Don't worry about him. Ben's gotten himself into and out of worse   
situations. The girls'll yell for a bit, he'll take the abuse, he'll   
apologize, then get 'em wasted enough to forget."  
"Seems kinda underhanded to me."  
Denis smiled at the bearded man. "All's fair in love and war.   
Even though he'll never admit it, he loves those girls. Not enough to   
bed either of them, more like sisters, but he loves 'em none the less."  
Holden smiled as he watched the fight ensue. "I guess stranger   
things have happened."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The Dude Slayer sits at his desk yawning. A half empty 3-liter   
bottle of Mellow Yellow and an empty coffee pot sit within arms reach   
of him. Behind his opaque mirrored sunglasses TDS scans the words   
written on the monitor before him.  
  
The heavy cedar door of the office flew open. Vampboy stood in   
the threshold. In his hands he carried a large box with a series of   
holes drilled in the sides of it. He dropped the box loudly on the   
floor, causing The Dude Slayer to look around his monitor.  
  
TDS: What the fuck? What's that?  
VB: Dunno. It just came Fedex International. The postage is   
from New Zealand. You think it's those 'Rings' props we ordered?  
TDS: *head shakes gently* Nah. Those won't be here for at least   
another two weeks. Well grab a crowbar and open it.  
VB: 'Kay. *jogs out of the room*  
TDS: *stand and walks to the box* So, Chibis. You've finally   
returned. I'm not unhappy to see you, but I'm not entirely happy   
either. I've begun to enjoy the quite around the archive with you   
three gone. But good things never last long.  
  
  
In the archive galley Firefingers and Vampboy stand chatting. Firefingers   
is in her usual black patent leather pants, red leather jacket with flame   
designs covering it, and a white lace tie-poet's shirt that stretched over her   
generous chest. Vampboy leaned against the refrigerator wearing his usual black   
silk shirt, baggy black casual slacks, obsidian black biker boots, but his   
lightweight trenchcoat was missing.  
  
VB: Yeah so I dropped the box off in his office. I think the Chibis are   
finally back. I can't think of any reason for the holes in the box.  
FF: Makes sense. I was getting used to the quiet though. With those   
three around its like we have kids running free. That can't be good for Dude   
and his writing.  
VB: *shrugs* Who knows. I figure by now he's used to them.  
FF: I guess. So does Kevin Smith know that he's borrowing Holden and his   
problems for this story?  
VB: Nope. And I doubt that Denis Leary knows that he and "McLeary's   
Tavern" are being used in these fics either. I just hope that they both know   
that Dude Slayer's not making any money off this and that this is all being done   
for the hell of it.  
FF: *nods* Well you better run. You know how he gets when his orders   
are ignored.  
VB: Yeah. Him and his fucking god-complex. Someday it's gonna bite him   
in the ass.  
FF: Tell me about it.  
  
Vampboy jogs off with crowbar in hand.  
  
FF: *looks at camera* You can get in touch with The Dude Slayer at   
the_dude_slayer@yahoo.com  
He's always glad to hear from people. Fans, flames, whatever he'll listen and   
respond. So write. Until next time  
  
  
Ja ne.  
HH 


	4. Christmas Special: Finding Amy

Barstool Sessions II  
Christmas Special  
Finding Amy  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"DECK THE HALLS IN FLAMING NAPALM!!! FA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA!!!"   
The familiar sound of Ben's voice rang through the near-empty tavern.   
Besides the ever-faithful barkeep the only people around were Sheila,   
Lillyanna, and Denis. The quartet was having a small party to   
celebrate the holidays.  
"LIGHT THE GASES AND WATCH THEM BURN!! FA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA!!"  
A trio of angry glares cut off Ben's joyous singing. Ben smiled as he   
poured a snifter of brandy. "What?!" he asked innocently.  
Lillyanna crossed her arms under her breasts. "You know what.   
That's not how the song goes."  
Ben pouted slightly. "Hey! You all KNOW I hate Christmas. I'm   
just singing my version of the songs."  
Sheila glared at her friend. "That doesn't matter. This is   
supposed to be a time of peace and goodwill. Not you making napalm   
bombs to throw at fake Santa Clauses."  
Ben chuckled nervously as he pushed a small plastic box further   
under the bar with his foot. "I'm insulted. I would NEVER throw   
napalm on Santa." Under his breath he mumbled, "I'd throw it on those   
damn manger scenes. Santa gets thermite." He punctuated the evil   
thought with a sadistic grin.  
Denis sighed as he listened to the trio before him. He knew that   
if something didn't happen soon Ben would be digging a deeper grave for   
himself that he already had.   
  
With the practiced ease of a seasoned parent Denis placed a snow   
shovel before the island boy. "Here."  
Ben looked slightly confused at the object being held out to him.   
"What's this for? We're not holding a party, what do I need an ice   
bucket shovel for?"  
A look of curiosity crossed Denis' aging face, as if the   
reference seemed to not make sense. "It's a snow shovel. I want you   
to go out and clear the way into the bar. We don't want people to   
think we're closed."  
Ben took the shovel cautiously. "Dude. We're in the middle of   
New York. It's not like there's snow on the ground. The stuff turns   
to slush..."  
Denis glanced back at his young employee. A look of 'shut up and   
do as I say' was etched on his features.  
Ben grinned stupidly as he grabbed his duster on his way for the   
door. "Right boss-man! Clean the walk! I'm all over it!" Ben wasn't   
even out the door before he was done babbling.  
  
The girls watched as the younger man rushed out of the building.  
Sheila poured a glass of wine and handed it to Lilly.   
"Sometimes, I swear it's hard to believe that he's twenty-seven."  
Lillyanna sipped the wine. "I know. There are times I swear he   
can't be more than twelve, and then there are times, like when he's   
helping people, that he seems well beyond his age. It has to be the   
'Gemini Affect.'"  
Sheila placed the bottle down and picked up a glass of wine.   
"Gemini affect? What's that?"  
Lillyanna placed her glass on the bar and stared at it for a   
moment. "In the Wicca community it's said that people are oftentimes   
over ruled by their Zodiac symbols. Leos an Taurai are often strong   
and confident, while Pieci and Lybai are thinkers. Well Gemini are the   
most interesting of the Zodiac."  
The brunette woman sipped her wine once more before pushing it   
away slightly. "Good wine. I'll have to thank Ben for ordering it.   
Gemini are twins by nature. Most have personalities that seem like two   
people that are alike and different from each other. But just like all   
Zodiac there are those individuals that are the total epitome of their symbol.  
"In Gemini it's called the 'Gemini Affect.' In essence it seems   
like two totally separate people in the same person. Much like Ben.   
He switches so quickly from the mature, helpful bartender that we know   
and love to a impetuous, youthful, child-like college kid that annoys   
us to no end. He literally embodies the 'Gemini Affect,' it definitely   
makes for an interesting friend." Lillyanna sighed as she picked up   
the wineglass. "I wish my Gemini was that strong."  
  
  
  
Ben cleared the path to McLeary's with a bored expression on his   
face. The tan that seemingly become a permanent feature of his skin   
pigment had begun to fade over the last few months. Though his skin   
was still tanned it was no longer the golden-brown it had been when Ben   
had come back from Key West.  
"Jingle Bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg." Ben sung the   
old childhood song with the same bored attitude that he had as he   
shoveled the slush from before the door. It was the day before   
Christmas Eve and it had been snowing all week long, but as with every   
other snowfall in the Big Apple, it didn't stay. The moment the   
crystallized water hit the pavement it immediately melted into the   
dirty slush-like substance that made driving so dangerous.  
Ben haphazardly slammed the shovel onto the ground. "I HATE   
Christmas!! Fucking Christians, and their fucking holidays." Ben's   
angry outburst caused a few of the people walking the streets to back   
away somewhat frightened of the crazy man with the shovel.  
"Brrrr," Ben's teeth chattered as he closed his heavy leather   
overcoat. "I HATE New York winters. Its too FUCKING cold here!" Ben   
heartily rubbed his arms together in an attempt to warm up. "Fuck New   
York, Give ME KEY WEST!!!" Angrily the twenty-seven year old bartender   
pulled the zipper up on his coat, effectively closing himself off from   
the cold, and seated himself on his Harley. "I'm going home. It's too   
early for me to be awake. For the gods' sakes the sun's still up."  
With a loud growling roar the motorcycle spurred to life. The   
heavy bike's rider spun it to face the front of the alley as he revved   
the engine. As Ben disappeared into traffic the echo of his words   
could be heard with crystal clarity. "I'm not even getting paid to be   
up this early!!"  
  
  
  
  
With a zombie-like attribute in his speech Ben poured a cup of   
steaming black liquid. To which he added a generous amount of brandy.   
"Cooo-ffeee...gooodd..."  
Sheila watched as the bartender poured the drink. "It's always   
enjoyable to see you when you first wake up. You're like a zombie."  
"Caffeine." Ben tiredly lifted the steaming mug to his lips.   
"MMmmm...goooooddd..."  
Sheila chuckled gingerly as she watched. "Is this what you look   
like every afternoon when you wake up?"  
Ben dropped his head to the bar. "No...I spent most of the night   
drinking myself stupid. I was trying to forget that today was   
Christmas Eve." Ben rolled his head to the side to look at Sheila.   
"It didn't work very well."  
Sheila rolled her eyes at the snide comment. "What is it with   
you and the holidays. Sometimes I swear you're worse than Scrooge."  
Shakily the bartender lifted himself off the bar to glare at the   
waitress. "Not funny. I'm better than he was...I take days off now   
and again. And I don't care about money." Ben's head fell back to   
bar top with a loud thump.  
  
Denis leaned over the railing as he looked down from the second   
floor. "Sheila! What was that noise?!" A tender concerned expression   
crossed the comedian's countenance.  
Sheila stepped away from the empty bar so her boss could clearly   
see her. "Nothing Denis! Ben's just got a bad hangover! His head hit   
the bar, that's all!" Sheila spoke just loud enough to ensure that her   
voice carried and echoed in the empty tavern.  
Denis nodded imperceptibly. "Alright!" Denis hollered back. In   
the background the familiar sound of Ben's guttural, deep-throated   
growl could be heard followed up by the familiar, "Stop yelling" in a   
deep Southern accent.  
  
  
  
  
  
Ben's hangover had been washed away a few hours later. Time,   
brandy, and a healthy dose of café au lait and Jolt Cola helped to   
dispense with the familiar pounding at the back of the young man's   
skull. To pass the time Ben had taken to cleaning an already spotless   
tavern. His excuse having been if he didn't find something to do soon   
he's loose what little sanity he had left.  
As Ben made his third pass by the jukebox a strange vibration   
could be heard on his belt.Curiously Ben looked down to find that   
his cell phone was vibrating. "Shit, who's callin' me today?" As he   
removed the vibrating object from his hip Ben noticed the readout on   
the screen.  
With a happy grin the bartender answered the vibrating piece of   
black plastic. "Amy! Hey girl, what's up? Uh-huh. Yeah? A party,   
tonight? No can do, I'm working. Oh don't even act that way, you know   
my jobs means the world to me. So what if I AM a workaholic, at least   
I enjoy my job.  
"Look, why don't you bring everyone to the bar tonight. Yeah.   
Of course Denis won't mind, he's always glad to have customers. The   
last week of December is the slowest week of the year. We could use   
the business.  
"Uh-huh. Okay. 10'll be good. I'll have the place ready for   
ya. Alright. See ya then. Laterz." With a stupid grin on his face   
Ben hung the phone off his belt.  
  
"Who was that?" A female voice drifted down from the staircase.   
Lillyanna was standing on the last step awaiting an answer. As always   
the fashion designer wore a beautifully tailored outfit that seemed   
made just for her.  
A deep violet blouse with plum ribbons holding the slits in the   
sleeves closed. Intricate flower/ivy designs ran down seams of her   
navy blue crushed velvet pants ending with the pattern wrapping around   
her ankles. Lilly's feet were covered with black stockings that   
matched the crescent moon shaped earrings she wore.  
Ben looked over his shoulder at the pair of women. "What?" His   
icy-blue eyed gaze turned to the phone on his hip. "Oh, that." He   
looked up, his eyes catching with Lillyanna's chocolate brown eyes.   
"That was a friend of mine. She wanted me to go to a party with her   
tonight, but I talked her into throwing the party here instead."  
Sheila leaned against the bar. "You sure that's a good idea?   
Denis might not like it much."  
Ben waved his hand in a dismissive manner. "Nougat. He'll love   
it. All that profit. It he doesn't love me now he will tomorrow when   
he gets tonight's sales slips. We'll make more tonight than we have   
all week."  
Sheila rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Just so long as I can get   
out in time to get some sleep. Tomorrow's Christmas ya know."  
Ben rolled his eyes as he headed towards the bar. "Don't remind   
me. Lil and I already celebrated the Solstice."  
Sheila shook her head. "Wiccas. I'll never understand you."  
  
  
  
  
A man in his mid-thirties exited the subway station. As he   
reached street level a cold burst of winter wind rushed past, causing   
the slightly obese man to close his heavy green trenchcoat around   
himself. The cold wind whipped past the man's face once more, causing   
his shoulder-length brown hair to whip about his bearded face.   
Slightly perturbed with the wind, the bearded man pushed the white   
Mooby baseball cap down on his head in an attempt to keep his hair from   
moving too much.  
He'd been making this late night trek to New York more and more   
often over the past few months. He and his heterosexual life-mate had   
recently taken to hanging out in front of a local bar rather than their   
usual hang out in front of the block of stores. Of course the 500 yard   
restraining order helped with that.  
Tonight though the heavyweight man was alone. He'd convinced his   
friend that he had some last minute Christmas shopping to do and he   
wanted to go alone.  
  
  
  
At McLeary's our favorite trio were seated at a table. A set of   
Tarot cards had been shuffled and dealt out. Lillyanna sat at the head   
of the table. Sheila sat across from the Wiccan woman, and Ben was   
seated, with his feet propped up on the back of a chair, to her   
immediate right.  
Lillyanna took a deep breath before she spoke. "The card   
representing the present situation you're in is the king of cups. Cups   
represent emotions and the King of Cups rules over emotions, he has   
your heart and he understands you and will not break your heart.  
"The obstacle right now is the Four of Cups. You like to day   
dream about how good things can be, but you don't always see what is   
right in front of you and how good that is. Even if you do have some   
failed loves in the past, don't look back.  
"The resent past is the Three of Swords reversed. Swords   
represent intellectual aspects. This card portrays a couple split by   
an issue and the Unicorn, their spiritual guidance, walking away. When   
this card is reversed it is that if you listen to each other you can   
get back together and be stronger. And that's what you did.  
"Near future is the sun card. This card is a very happy card   
depicting lovers basking in the sun. This card tells of lots of happy   
times to come.  
"The basis of this situation is the Ace of Cups reversed. When   
the Ace of Cups is reversed all the emotions are just pouring out.   
Good and bad. This is a very emotional subject for you, but like all   
things there's good and bad. But by surrounding cards I'd say more   
good." Lillyanna winked at her friend as she took a break to breath.  
"The possible outcome for all this is... the Four of Rods. This   
is the card of marriage. look for wedding bells in the future.  
"Going up the right line up next to the cross - internal   
influence, is the Queen of Cups. Again, a ruler over her emotions.   
symbolizing you. You are in control of your emotions. And you know   
what you want, just don't get too worked up over things. If you get   
overly emotional like the ace of cups you might lose track of what   
really matters.  
"External influence is the Knight of Swords. I'm going to say   
this is the same man as the King of Cups, he is your knight in shining   
armor. An intelligent man who sweeps you off your feet. Your hero."  
  
"Doesn't sound like Chang to me," Ben quipped. "Boy's taken one   
too many hits to the head." Ben's remark was rewarded by a slap to the   
chest by Lillyanna.  
  
Lillyanna continued without missing a beat. "Hopes and fears   
card is the Devil reversed. You fear that temptation will pull you and   
you're knight apart. But don't worry...  
"Your future card is the Lovers, this is the "soul mate" card.   
You two were meant for each other, and you shouldn't worry about   
temptation.  
"This reading is all about your relationship, to sum up. Things   
are going very well, you may get a proposal soon, don't worry about him   
leaving, you two are meant for each other.  
"Shel I just want you to remember that this isn't perfect. It   
might not even be totally correct."  
"Yeah. She could be absolutely wrong." Ben remarked with thick  
sarcasm. "Its rare to find a Tarot that's 100%. I wonder what's   
keeping Amy."  
Lillyanna glared at her friend for a moment. Quickly she made   
sure that Sheila was still paying attention to the cards.  
While Sheila was watching the cards, Lillyanna pushed the legs of   
Ben's chair throwing his balance. With a resounding THUD the bartender   
was flat on his ass on the floor. With mock sympathy Lillyanna leaned   
over the table. "Oh Ben! You should be more careful. Don't want you   
getting hurt." The Wicca woman smirked as she took her seat again.  
Ben rubbed his rear end as he stood up. "Ouch. That stung."   
Rubbing his backside Ben made his way behind the counter. Quickly he   
cobbled together a makeshift ice pack. "Sometimes I wonder if you two   
are my friends, or if someone from back home hired you to kill me."  
The girls shared a quick smile before giggling.  
  
  
The door to McLeary's opened gently allowing a freezing burst of   
cold air into the warm tavern. The breeze not only supplied the room   
with a freezing draft but also succeeded in throwing the Tarot cards   
around the room in an unrecognizable mess. In unison the trio   
responded, loudly. "CLOSE THE FUCKING DOOR!!! IT'S FREEZING OUT   
THERE!!!" Ben's heavy voice carried itself over the voices of his   
female companions.  
The man standing in the doorway quickly slammed the heavy steel   
door closed behind himself. With a silent stealth that betrayed his   
being in New York the heavy man slid his arms out of the heavy green   
trenchcoat and shook the snow flurries off of it. After the snow was   
removed the man then shook the remaining flurries off of his baseball   
cap and from his hair.  
  
Ben turned his attention to the new arrival. "The bar's open,   
but not for much...SILENT BOB?! What the FUCK?! Out, OUt, OUT!!!" By   
now Ben's voice was loud enough to be heard over everything in the   
empty tavern. "Bob! Take your fucking stoner friend with you and   
LEAVE! I told you if you two EVER came back I'd have you two   
arrested!"  
Bob raised his hand to stop the screaming bartender. True to his   
namesake he said nothing as he looked around himself and motioned that   
he had come alone. In his own mime-like way Bob pointed out that Jay   
had not come with him and that he was hoping to talk with Ben.  
Ben glared at the bearded man for a moment. He had paid   
attention to the mime as he "spoke". Though he was not well versed in   
the hand signals of mime Ben succeeded in understanding what Bob was   
"saying" in his own unique way. "Alright, so you didn't drag your loud   
mouthed friend along. If you make so much as a single problem I'll   
have you clinked in minutes."  
  
  
Sheila tapped Lillyanna rapidly. "Lilly, are you seeing what I'm   
seeing?"  
Lillyanna nodded in a slight daze. "If you're seeing two Ben's   
then yeah, so'm I."  
Sheila rubbed her eyes a few times as she looked at both men.   
The Ben she knew and tolerated stood behind the bar; his usually placid   
and calm smile was replaced by smoldering anger. The new man, Bob,   
seemed almost completely calm and at ease with what was happening.  
  
Bob lit a cigarette as he made his way to the bar. As his   
designation stated, Bob made absolutely no noise as he seated himself.   
That changed the second he seated himself. "Heineken," he ordered in a   
deep, throaty voice.  
Ben dropped his ice pack and jaw as he heard the words.   
"You...you...YOU CAN TALK?!!"  
Brusquely Bob exhaled the smoke. "Why does it always shock   
people when I talk?"  
Ben stepped back to regain his bearings. "Fer fuck's sake, yer   
name's SILENT Bob! Why wouldn't people be shocked when ya talk?!"  
Bob shook his head slightly. "Just give me a Heineken."  
Without argument the blue eyed bartender uncapped one of the   
green imported bottles and placed it before Bob. "So, where's your   
sidekick? Leave him at home to tend to his monkey by himself?"  
Bob looked over the bottle as he raised it to his mouth. "How'd   
you know about Suzanne? And she's an orangutan, they're apes."  
With slight confusion Ben lifted an eyebrow at the man before   
him. "What? You two have an orangutan living with you? And people   
think my household habits are weird." With a stern shake of his head   
the former Key West native turned around and reached for a bottle of   
rum and a large glass.  
  
Bob drained a good portion of the liquid from the bright green   
bottle before he placed it on the table. "Holden tells me you helped   
him with his Alyssa problem."  
Ben nodded as he filled a shaker with the clear liquid. "Sure   
did. Last I heard he'd put his sordid little tale to paper and pulled   
it off as a comic book. 'Chasing Amy' I think he called it. I've got   
a copy of it back at my apartment." As he spoke Ben had begun adding   
different liquors to the shaker. "Not a bad piece of work, but I don't   
think Contender would pick up a full series for it."  
Bob nodded along while Ben spoke. "True. I wasn't a fan of his   
'Bluntman and Chronic' either, but I didn't mind. I was surprised   
Contender bought it, and even more so when Miramax made it into a   
movie. Too bad it sucked."  
Ben snickered at the thought of the "Bluntman and Chronic" movie.   
"Gods that was a waste of reel-to-reel. I can seriously think of   
better things to make a movie of."  
Bob nodded. "True. Like 'Daredevil'?"  
A shiver of cold ran down the length of the younger man's spine.   
"That's just wrong. Ben Affleck has no right to play Ol' Hornhead."  
As he listened to the other man speak, Bob finished off his beer.   
"I have to agree with you. It'll flop, and maybe people will figure   
out that comics and movies just don't mix well."  
Ben shook his head harshly as he shook the metal container in his   
hands. "Not likely, remember "Spider-Man 2" is probably gonna keep the   
genre alive for a few more years. Not to mention "X2" and the "Hulk"   
movie that'll be out soon."  
Bob nodded mildly. "Mmm. Forgot about those. Well I doubt   
they'll do as bad as Episode 1 did."  
Ben grabbed the empty green glass bottle and crushed it, sending   
broken bits of forest green glass onto the floor. "Don't EVER bring up   
that movie in my presence. George Lucas shoulda been killed for that   
piece of shit."  
A look of shock and fear appeared on the bearded man's face.   
"Understood."  
  
  
Sheila watched the exchange between the "twins" with a   
questioning eye. From the moment Silent Bob had entered the tavern Ben   
had been on edge. "Something's wrong here."  
Lillyanna looked up from the cards she had on her table. "What?   
Damn, have you seen my Tower card?"  
"Here you go." Sheila held the aforementioned card and a few   
others out to her friend.  
Smiling happily the brunette slipped her Tarot cards back into   
their box. As she closed the box Lillyanna looked over to Sheila.   
"Now, what were you saying?"  
Running a hand through her flaming orange hair Sheila pointed to   
the two men at the bar. "Something's not right. Something about this   
feels different. This Bob guy is different than the others."  
Lillyanna's gaze quickly fluctuated from Ben to Bob to Sheila.   
"Okay. Did I miss something? When did Ben become a telepath, and   
when'd you start picking up empathic signals?!"  
Sheila looked confused. "What? What are you talking about?"  
Suddenly Lillyanna felt embarrassed at her outburst. "You mean   
you don't know? About Ben's empathy?"  
Sheila shook her head. The confusion was written obviously on   
her sharply angular face. "No, I know he keeps mentioning it, and   
you've said something about it before, but I got no idea what the hell   
you two are talking about."  
Lilly mentally kicked herself for her stupidity in assuming   
everyone understood the things she did. "Ben and I are special. We're   
empathic. Which means we FEEL other people's emotions. The fact that   
we're not dead or vegetables amazes me. In a city this big and in the   
bar everyday with as many people that cram in here as they do, you'd   
think our brains would overload."  
Sheila nodded in understanding. "So that's why Ben's always so   
interested in what everyone around him feels." Sheila slapped her   
forehead, rather painfully. "Stupid, stupid, stupid. That bastard.   
That cheating bastard." With a resounding fury Sheila turned towards   
the bar and began to get out of her chair.  
Lillyanna grabbed her friend's arm and restrained her. "Hold on   
there, girlfriend. What are you babbling about?" With a strong tug,   
Sheila fell back into her chair. "How is Ben a cheater?!"  
Sheila fumed as she glared at the man behind the bar.   
"He...we...ARGH!"  
Lillyanna shook her head, causing her long brown hair to cascade   
around her shoulders. "Calm down girl. Deep breaths." In an attempt   
to calm her friend Lilly began taking deep, calming breaths hoping   
Sheila would follow her example. After a minute Sheila followed her   
friend's example. Lilly smiled as she saw, and felt, the anger escape   
her friend. "Now, how is Benji a cheater?"  
Sheila smiled and giggled at hearing the proud bartender being   
referred to as a shaggy dog from a bad '70's Disney movie. Sheila took   
a deep breath and exhaled. "Every time we play cards. He always acts   
like he knows something I don't. Like he's always got an ace up his   
coat. Now I know why." Sheila growled slightly, it came out sounding   
more like a tame kitten than a fierce cat.  
Lillyanna rolled her eyes. "I need some sane friends."  
  
  
Ben and Bob were sitting at the bar, facing each other, and   
talking. Ben had rolled the sleeves up on his khaki shirt, showing off   
his muscular arms. One arm rested on the bar next to his beer holding   
a smolder cigar, the other lay across his black denim covered lap.  
The pair had been conversing in a very civil manner, about Star   
Wars and comic books, when a familiar vibrating could be heard.  
  
Silent Bob noticed that the man across from him seemed to   
be...vibrating? That was strange. It wasn't often that people   
vibrated. After a moment he noticed that the vibrations were coming   
from the bartender's hip.  
As was his trademark, Bob pointed to Ben's hip and began shaking   
his hand rapidly. After a moment he gave up his Silent and just spoke.   
"Ben. You're vibrating."  
"Huh?" Ben gave his customer a confused look as he followed   
the direction of Bob's hand. After a second he noticed that his phone   
was once again ringing. With a frustrated grunt Ben removed the phone   
and answered it.  
"Moshi, Moshi?" he frowned and spoke harshly. After a moment   
Ben's anger was totally replaced by a smile. "Oh, hey, luv. No, no,   
I'm not mad with you. What? Oh sure. Yeah, bring 'em on. Sure, of   
course the bar'll be open. Hell, bring 'em now. We could use the   
livelihood. It's dead here. Alright. See you soon, bye."  
With a stupid grin and a flip, Ben closed the phone and replaced   
it on his hip. "Shel, Lil. Grab my wallet and run to the store. I   
need you two to pick up some eggnog. Just use my Visa, the pin number   
is 38-22-36."  
The girls shared a confused glance with each other before running   
for the changing room where Ben hung his duster. Both knew that if   
they didn't move soon he'd revert back to his Scrooge-like self and   
take back the card.  
Just before the pair made it out the door Ben succeeded in   
grabbing both of them by their coats. "Girls. One thing. If you   
spend money on anything BUT nog, I'll take it from you wallets or your   
hides. Just so you know." Playfully he slapped both women's butts to   
push them out the door. "Be safe!" he called out after them.  
After the girls were gone, Ben fell back onto his stool next to   
Bob. "So where were we? Oh yeah. You're problem. What was it? A   
woman problem, but not exactly, so spill."  
  
Bob sighed as he thought of a good place to start. Everyone says   
that the beginning is the best place to start. So that's where he   
began. Quietly he snubbed out his dead cigarette and began speaking.   
"A couple years ago, I met this chick named Amy. For a good long time   
we were inseparable, all big time in love, right." Ben nodded in   
understanding, allowing Bob to continue.  
"Well four months down the road, the idiot gear kicks in, and I   
ask about her ex-boyfriend. As we both know is always a really dumb   
move, but ya know how it is. You don't wanna know but ya just have ta   
know, right? Stupid guy bullshit." Ben nodded once more as he took a   
sip from his beer.  
"So anyway she starts telling me about him. About how they fell   
in love, and how they went out for a couple years, and they lived   
together, and how her mother like me better, blah, blah, blah. And I'm   
okay.  
"But then she drops the bomb on me, and the bomb is this: it   
seems that a couple of times while they were going out he brought some   
people to bed with them. Menage a trios, I believe it's called."   
Ben nodded again. "That's right. Not the worst thing in the   
world, but not the brightest for a blooming relationship either."   
With a smirk Ben took a long drag off his cigar.  
Bob raised an eyebrow in curiosity, but continued with his   
explanation. It blows my mind, right. I am not used to this. I was   
raised Catholic for God's sakes. So, I'm totally weirded out by this,   
right. So I start blastin' her, like I don't know how to deal with   
what I'm feeling, so I figure the best way is to call her "Slut," right   
and tell her she was used. I'm out for blood. I really want to hurt   
this girl."  
Ben absentmindedly nodded as he looked over Bob's shoulder at the   
door. A young woman in her later twenties-early thirties had just   
entered the tavern.  
The woman's long, mid-back length, blonde hair was covered in   
white snow flurries. The snow had also attached itself to the heavy   
black and green winter coat she was wearing. Steadily the young   
woman's long legs carried her closer to the pair of men at the bar. As   
she neared it was obvious that she could hear their conversation.  
  
Bob had never stopped talking, even though his audience was not   
giving him his full attention. "I'm like 'What the fuck is your   
problem?!' And she's all calmly trying to tell me, like, it was that   
time, it was that place, and she doesn't feel that she should apologize   
because she doesn't feel she's done anything wrong. I'm like: 'Oh   
really?' So I looked her straight in they eye and tell her it's over,   
I walk." A flicker of understanding had entered Bob's eyes as he'd   
spoke, he knew his answer just as soon as he'd begun speaking.  
"It was a mistake. I wasn't disgusted with her. I was afraid.   
At that moment I felt small, like I'd lacked experience or something.   
It's like I'd never be on her level, like I'd never be enough for her   
or something. Ya know what I'm saying?  
But what I did NOT get was that she didn't care. She wasn't   
looking for that guy anymore, she was looking for me." Stoutly Bob   
tapped his chest. "For the Bob. But by the time I figured this all   
out it was too late. She'd moved on, and all I had to show for it was   
some foolish pride, which then later led to regret.  
"She was the girl." Bob picked up the pack of Nails cigarettes   
he'd set on the bar, and his red Nails lighter, and removed one of the   
cancer causing sticks from its red cardboard home.  
"I know that now. But..." Bob flicked the lighter causing the   
cigarette's open end to spark red. He then dropped his lighter back   
onto the bar. "...I pushed her away. So I've spent every day since   
then Chasing Amy." Bob's shame and sadness were evident not only in   
his speech but also in his downcast eyes and his mannerisms.   
Silently Bob inhaled a large amount of the cigarette smoke, which   
he slowly released through his closed lips. "So to speak."  
Ben grinned slightly as he watched the blonde woman standing   
behind Bob. Her face had paled slightly and become saddened as she'd   
listened to the obese man's story.  
  
"Robert?" Her voice caught in her throat, but to Silent Bob it   
hit like a 60-megaton warhead.  
Bob spun around on his stool. His deep black eyes met the   
woman's ocean green eyes. The tears could be seen forming at the   
corner of both people's eyes. "Amy?"  
  
Ben grinned a tiny, devilish grin as he stood up. "It sounds to   
me, like you problem completely understood. So I'll leave you two love   
birds alone."  
With a Ninja's stealth the auburn bartender escaped the bar to a   
table where he could watch the couple. Smiling happily Ben fell into a   
chair and propped his booted feet on the chair next to him. "Love is   
the most powerful force in the universe."  
  
  
"Amy, is that you?" Bob asked the woman before him. This was   
like a dream come true to the Jedi Knight. He'd stopped counting all   
the times over the years that he'd wished for Amy to walk back into his   
life, like she'd just done.  
Amy took a cautionary step towards the bearded man seated before   
her. "Robert. What are you doing here?"  
"I could ask you the same thing."  
Amy looked slightly shameful. "Ben was going to let me throw a   
party here tonight. He didn't say you were here."  
Bob turned and glared at the smiling man seated a few tables   
away. Ben waved cutely at the larger man. Silent Bob turned back to   
the love of his life. "I came here to talk to Ben. One of the guys I   
know said that Ben was an amazing problem solver."  
Amy smiled cutely, showing a mouthful of shining white teeth.   
"Ben's good at that kind of thing. He has a way of making other's   
understand their problems better." Cautiously Amy stepped closer to   
the man she once loved. "It sounds to me though that you figured   
everything out on your own."  
Leaning over slightly Amy kissed Bob's rough, bearded cheek. "I   
knew you'd eventually see that you were being childish, I just didn't   
think it'd take this long."  
Bob smiled somewhat awkwardly. "I always did have a hard head."  
  
Ben stepped upto the pair and threw an arm around each of their   
shoulders. "You two." The tanned barkeep smiled happily. "I want you   
two to be happy. Go forth and be merry. And try not to screw up this   
time, Bob."  
Bob snorted at the other man. "We'll try our best this time."  
Ben's ice blue eyes narrowed into tiny slits. "No. Do or do   
not. There is no try."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Epilogue:  
  
  
  
The party had gone off with no problems. A large number of Amy's   
friends had shown up, allowing Ben to make two or three nights'   
earnings in just a few hours.  
Silent Bob and Amy had left earlier in the evening, together.   
Everyone that had been in McLeary's that night had been able to tell   
that Bob and Amy were more than just friends.  
  
Sheila had helped Ben clean up and then left. She had complained   
that if she didn't leave when she did she wouldn't get enough sleep.   
And she didn't want to be cranky on Christmas.  
Ben and Lillyanna had finished the cleaning duties together.   
Lillyanna, in her intoxicated state, was a form of hilarity for the   
bartender. He'd watched as the drunken woman had gone around all night   
hugging and kissing random people. He'd even seen her grab a few   
people's butts as the night had progressed.  
  
Ben snickered as he helped Lillyanna up the stairs to her   
apartment. Between Lillyanna's giddy attitude and Ben's drunken   
staggering, the pair eventually made their way to the apartment.  
Lillyanna hugged Ben as they leaned against the door to her   
apartment. "My knight in dirty leather." She giggled happily at her   
own joke. "You smell like booze."  
Ben leaned against Lillyanna. "So do you, luv." Ben chuckled as   
he rolled his eyes. "Guess what, hun. Look up."  
Giggling happily Lillyanna looked to the wall above her door.   
"Is that..." she squinted trying to get a better look. "Mistletoe?"  
"That it is gal. And that's my cue to run." In a drunken   
stagger Ben attempted to flee the happy arms of his friend. But alas,   
his luck was gone.  
As Ben's back presented itself to her Lillyanna grinned wickedly   
to herself. Without warning the drunken woman jumped at the tall   
leather-clad man. Happily she wrapped her arms around Ben's neck and   
planted her lips on his check.  
"Merry Christmas, Benji!"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Kevin Smith owns silent Bob, Holden McNeil, Amy, Jay, Bluntman   
and Chronic, and Suzanne. I am borrowing them without permission, and   
I make no money off of this.  
This fic was written in 3 days. Hope you enjoy.  
  
redrum124@bigfoot.com 


	5. Deep Thoughts

Barstool Sessions II  
  
Deep Thinking  
  
Ugh. Gods. I hate mornings. Whatever happened to bartenders being   
  
allowed to sleep in 'til sunset. Fuck. Oh well might as well raid the   
  
fridge, see if there's anything worth eating. When did I go grocery shopping   
  
last?  
  
That's weird, the light in the kitchen's on. That light's never on.   
  
Oh yeah. Robbie's crashing here again. He showed up last night. Said he   
  
was going to Canada for something. I think it was a motorcycle rally.   
  
Probably means he's got that specialty bike him and Rigit were working on   
  
finished.  
  
My bro showed up way too early on my day off yesterday.  
  
A pounding on the apartment door cut Ben's midnight nap short.   
  
With the ease of a cat the young man made his way to the door. Even in just   
  
a pair of navy blue cotton shorts, Ben seemed ever vigil for an attack. 'Who   
  
the hell is buggin' me now?'With a skill that had been perfected over the   
  
years, Ben relaxed his mind and searched out the feelings of the person on   
  
the opposite side of the door. After a moment a devious smirk crossed the   
  
young man's calm face. Even the most casual of observer could tell that   
  
whoever was outside was an acquaintance of Ben's.  
  
The door to the lofty apartment flew open with a flourish. As the   
  
heavy piece of wood passed him Ben threw his foot into the air, catching the   
  
face of the man standing on the opposite side of the threshold. "Evenin'   
  
bro. Whata ya doin' back in town, there's no surf contests for a few more   
  
months."  
  
Outside the door a tall man, with heavily tanned skin and black spiked   
  
hair, wearing all black stood with a foot crushing his nose. The taller man   
  
mumbled a near inaudible response.  
  
Ben rose a brow at the man before him. "What'd ya say, bro?"  
  
Angrily the tall man threw the foot from his face, causing Ben to spin   
  
on his planted foot. "Dammit bro, don't EVER do that again. Whata I look   
  
like, Ranma?!"  
  
Ben grinned sharply as he spun once to keep his balance. "Not really.   
  
With that new hairstyle you look more like Ryoga." As he stepped back from   
  
the door, to allow his friend entrance to his home, Ben took a quick glance   
  
down the hallway before he closed the door. "So where is she, bro?"  
  
The man groaned as he watched the curious look on his friend's face.   
  
"She who? And would you put some pants on, Jesus!"  
  
Ben half-glared at his friend. "Just be lucky I'm wearing something.   
  
As to the femme, where is she? Last you told me, you and Faith hooked up   
  
again."  
  
Ben's hands rested on his hips as he watched his friend search his   
  
apartment. "Robert Nousfèrous! Don't tell me you lied to me!" The muscles   
  
in Ben's arms and legs tightened and flexed as he prepared to pummel his best   
  
friend.  
  
Robbie spun and lifted an eyebrow at his shorter friend. "Me, lie? I   
  
think you mixed us up again, you're the compulsive liar." Robbie quickly ran   
  
his fingers through his spiky hair, a habit the pair shared when agitated,   
  
worried, or bored. "Faith had to go back to LA. Something came up with   
  
Angel Investigations, some coming apocalypse or something. You know how it   
  
is out in Cali, something's always gettin' destroyed in an," Robbie lifted   
  
his hands and did a parenthesis motion, "'apocalypse.'"  
  
Ben nodded as he headed for the balcony. "Why do you think I wanted   
  
out as soon as I got there. Surf's great, but I can't stand the people.   
  
Kinda like here. I can't surf, the people get on my nerves a bit, but its   
  
better 'n goin' home ta the ol' problems." As he spoke Ben's deep, callous   
  
voice took on a familiar tone. His voice twanged with notes of the   
  
Caribbean, backwater Louisiana, and the deep South, with the Caribbean being   
  
strongest.  
  
Robbie's non-accented voice too took on the notes of the same accent,   
  
though his voice wasn't as deep it rang with more feeling and emotion.   
  
"Speaking of home." He pulled a letter from the lightweight black trench   
  
coat he wore. "Got a note for ya. From, here's the kicker, Kalia. From her   
  
hands to mine to yours. She's pissed at you dude, more than usual." Robbie   
  
rubbed the back of his neck as he held the piece of folded paper at the   
  
shorter man.  
  
Ben leaned against the balcony railing as he looked out over the city.   
  
A few late-night drivers and cabbies were cruising around the near empty   
  
streets. "Have you ever noticed that New York, no matter what time of day,   
  
always looks like a nice place to live. Just walking down the streets this   
  
city looks like some kind of commercial, capitalist paradise?"  
  
Robbie leaned heavily on the sliding glass door, knowing his paranoid   
  
brother it was triple thick, reinforced, bulletproof glass, as he listened to   
  
the older man babble. Over the years he'd gotten used to Ben zoning out on   
  
him, he'd just wait until his bro got his thoughts gathered and then he'd   
  
bring up the original line of conversation.  
  
Absentmindedly Ben's right forefinger and thumb began adjusting the   
  
silver and onyx ring on his left third finger. It was an old sign that   
  
something was bothering the schizophrenic bartender. With a shake of his   
  
head, which subsequently sent his long auburn hair flying in all directions,   
  
Ben returned to the world of reliable thoughts. "So what's that bitch want   
  
now? I'm done paying alimony, she's married and someone else's problem."  
  
Robbie quirked an eyebrow at his friend's comment. "Alimony? Dude,   
  
why would you be paying her alimony, you two never got hitched." Shock and   
  
fear crossed the taller man's strong, chiseled, handsome face. "You didn't   
  
did you?!" Robbie was almost yelling at this point.  
  
With a curious glint to his icy blue eyes and a cocked brow Ben turned   
  
to his best friend. "What are you babblin' 'bout? You remember the last   
  
time I even THOUGHT about marriage."  
  
Robbie backed up a step and relaxed. "Sorry, bro. How could I forget?   
  
I don't think you've been that happy in years." The tall dampiel dropped his   
  
gaze for a moment of remorse. "You talk to her family since the funeral?"  
  
Ben gave a half-shake of his head. "Nyet. They never liked me. Hell   
  
to this day Tiffany still doesn't like me. Blames me for Sarah's cancer,   
  
like I can control breast cancer."  
  
The young bartender slammed his hand onto the balcony railing. The   
  
metal bent slightly from the force exerted on it.  
  
I groan again as I look at the calendar hanging in my kitchen. July   
  
21, the only day I hate more than Christmas and my birthday. Gods I hate   
  
today. I'm almost tempted to call in sick. It'd be better than sitting in   
  
McLeary's all night listening to people bitch.  
  
But I can't do that. Running away 's not my style. 'Course if ya ask   
  
anyone back home they'll tell ya that's exactly what I've been doin' for the   
  
past few years.  
  
I drain the bottle of orange juice in my hand before I collapse into   
  
the chair behind me. I really don't want to deal with today. Sure, it's   
  
been six years but that doesn't mean it still doesn't hurt. Hell I still   
  
wear my wedding band. Sometimes I wish I'd never gotten rid of Sarah's.  
  
  
  
Ben stood on a pier watching the sun lower into the ocean. A   
  
giant ball of red and orange flames covered the sky illuminating the young   
  
man on the pier. The young surfer looked much like a black, shadowy outline   
  
being consumed in a giant fireball. In the gently summer breeze, Ben's   
  
lightweight black duster flapped behind him as a gentle spray from the ocean   
  
coated his sorrowful features.  
  
In his hand were two rings, one silver the other gold. The silver ring   
  
lay in the middle of Ben's palm with the smaller gold, diamond studded, ring   
  
lay inside that. Ben's sunglasses were pulled down covering his eyes,   
  
preventing any possible passersby from seeing his tear streaked eyes.  
  
Stifling a new wave of tears Ben gently slid the silver ring onto his   
  
left third finger. Carefully, as if holding a child, Ben lifted the gold   
  
ring to eye level. In a choked, forced voice Ben spoke to the ocean. "''Til   
  
death do us part.' That's what we woulda said in two weeks." Ben choked   
  
back a sob. "Well, I'm not dead yet." With all the strength he could muster   
  
Ben lobbed the small golden wedding band into the warm Gulf coastal waters.  
  
With a flourish of his duster, Ben spun on his heel and trudged towards   
  
a pair of teenagers sitting in an '85 Camero Berlinetta. Ben's slow   
  
methodical steps were the outward expression of the rage of emotions within   
  
him. Quietly the young man jumped over the passenger door of the Camero and   
  
slid between the T-top into the back seat.  
  
A younger Robbie looked over his shoulder at the despondent teen he   
  
called his 'bro'. With a cautious hand he reached out and gripped the hand   
  
of the young woman seated next to him. She nodded and without thinking   
  
Robbie started the loud engine and headed towards Mallory Street, where Ben's   
  
apartment was.  
  
I stand up and head towards the bathroom. Might as well get a shower   
  
while I can. Knowing Nous he's probably downstairs working on his bike   
  
before the big rally next week. Last thing I want is to be showering with a   
  
shit load of oil, grease, and dirt in the drain. That's why I stopped   
  
working at the print shop and the garage.  
  
Shit, katas. Ever since I left Tokyo I've cut back on my daily katas.   
  
I guess the Japs were right, we Americans are lazy. Oh well. Better hop to   
  
before I forget again.  
  
I slip on a pair of baggy cotton pants and pick up my bokken before   
  
heading out the door. The rooftop awaits. Hopefully I can do twelve katas   
  
before my arms start hurting today.  
  
Against my better judgement I came into work today. I'm not sure why,   
  
maybe it's just to get my mind off of Sarah, maybe I want to talk to Lilly   
  
and just can't acknowledge the fact, hell maybe I just want to work. I've   
  
heard of stranger things.  
  
Denis is hanging around upstairs. I saw him with some suits when I   
  
walked in; nobody said anything about a party, but who knows anymore; this   
  
place seems to get more popular every week.  
  
Sheila was kool with me earlier. She and Lilly seem to be pretty kool   
  
with me since we sorted things out a few months back, I'm not too sure   
  
though. I just hope things between her and Chang are still good. They're   
  
both good friends and I'd hate to see them break up.  
  
Where the fuck are Jay and Bob. I haven't seen Bob around since   
  
Christmas, when Amy came by. Amy tells me she and Bob're doin' good, for   
  
that little bit of news I'm happy. But I'm still curious about Jay. If the   
  
cops had him I'd know, but no one at the station has contacted me, so I doubt   
  
he's in lock up.  
  
I shrug mentally. Hell, maybe that Justice girl finally got out and   
  
he's just spending all his time with her. "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" is   
  
playing on the jukebox, seems like that damn thing just knows what I'm   
  
thinking sometime. It's a little unnerving.  
  
Why is that blonde at the end of the bar staring at me?  
  
I place the phone down in the back room and groan slightly. Damn.   
  
There was comic convention this weekend. Shit. I'd wanted to go too.   
  
Holden said he was there promoting his new book. Damn. I was hoping to get   
  
Kevin Smith to sign my TPB Green Arrow. For a film director, Kevin's a damn   
  
good comic writer.  
  
Guess that happens when you spend most of your life reading comic   
  
books. You really get a good feel for the characters. Well shit; oh well,   
  
back to work. Out of the corner of my eye I can swear I see that same blonde   
  
lookin' at me. Is my fly down, I check, nope. Guess she wants to talk then.  
  
My shift ends in an hour and she's been here since before I arrived.   
  
She's been quite all night. Just sitting at the end of the bar alone. She   
  
looks like she's lived through Hell and come out with her share of bruises.   
  
She's signaling again, guess I better do my job. Wouldn't want anyone to   
  
think I was a real bartender. Heh.  
  
I've given everyone ten minutes, but it's time. Last call, that last   
  
drink of the night before I kick everyone out. Everyone except that blonde   
  
at the end of the bar. There's something about her that makes me want to   
  
just keep her around. I think my "gaydar" is going off, something about her   
  
screams lesbian.  
  
Hell wouldn't be a first. Guess I better go see to this young woman's   
  
problem. And Mom told me to get a psych degree. Now a days...it probably   
  
wouldn't have hurt any.  
  
I place a cocktail glass down before her, sloshing the liquid slightly.   
  
"Mind if ah drink with ya?" I ask in my heavy accent. Sometimes I forget how   
  
easy it is to just talk with an accent. Most New Yorkers wouldn't understand   
  
half of what I say if I used my beach voice, but at times I don't really mind.  
  
The woman looks up at me with heavy brown eyes. She's either drunk or   
  
getting there, either way she's probably coming home with me or in a taxi.   
  
"You're in charge here, its up to you." Her voice is heavy, she was probably   
  
crying before she got here and decided to drink away whatever her problem   
  
was. Hope she doesn't mind my prying.  
  
"Wanna talk about it?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
I nod my head slightly. "Fair 'nuff. I'll just clean around ya. If   
  
y'all decide ya wanna talk, just holler." She nods once before turning back   
  
to the drink sitting before her.  
  
Wonder where Lilly ran off to. She wasn't in her apartment when I   
  
stopped by earlier. Denis unloaded some sweet concert tickets on me and I   
  
figured she'd wanna go or at least know someone that would. Well it is   
  
getting to that time of year where her people are needed.  
  
Across town.  
  
Lillyanna is sitting hunched over a drafting table with a colored   
  
pencil in her hand sketching out a backless dress. She'd been bent over the   
  
table for the past three days, and the lack of sleep and food was finally   
  
getting to her. Stifling a strong yawn, the young brunette woman placed her   
  
head on her crossed arms and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.  
  
"Fuck relationships."  
  
The woman just blurted it out. I don't think she even knew she said   
  
it. Not surprising. She's drunker than tourist in a tiki bar. "Nani?"   
  
Damn, I'm speaking Japanese, again. I gotta stop watching animè before work,   
  
that or clean out my manga collection. It's getting pricey to import graphic   
  
novels from Tokyo.  
  
The blonde rolled her head slightly allowing her a better vantage of   
  
me. "What'd you say?"  
  
I grin one of my patented "I'm so cool you gotta love me" grins. "It's   
  
Japanese. It means 'what,' which is what I just asked you. What was that   
  
about relationships?"  
  
The woman grunted as she tipped her glass back. "Fuck 'em. They're   
  
fucking useless. No point in 'em." She slams her glass down on the bar   
  
expecting me to refill it, too bad I'm across the room cleaning the jukebox.  
  
Hmmm, maybe she's not THAT drunk. But she's getting there. "Another   
  
beer...uh..."  
  
"Alyssa," she said slightly groggy. "Unless you can think of something   
  
better? Huh, can you barboy?!"  
  
Okay, seriously thinking of slipping her into a cab now. I hate   
  
violent people, they piss me off. Huh, what's that? I look down to my arm   
  
when I'm rubbing the scar from where I got hit by debris back in LA when the   
  
bar burned down. Fucking triads, at least the Yakuza were nice enough to try   
  
and stab me.  
  
Alyssa...that name sounds familiar. Why? Not important. I toss the   
  
cleaning rag over my shoulder and make my way back behind the bar. "So who   
  
broke your heart?"  
  
Alyssa groaned as she laid her head down on the smooth wood. "Good   
  
question. I don't know how to answer."  
  
My head gently shakes back and forth as I watch the lithe blonde try   
  
and force back a single tear. I've been where she is now, and I've lost   
  
count of the number of people I've seen in her position. Instead of the beer   
  
I was planning on pouring I open a bottle of water and place it down within   
  
Alyssa's reach. "So...what was her name?" It's a risky gamble but if I'm   
  
wrong no big.  
  
Alyssa rolls her face towards me; I can see a pretty deep pain running   
  
down from her deep eyes all the way into her heart. Whoever hurt her must   
  
have really meant a lot to her. "What did you just say?"  
  
I wipe the smirk from my lips and give the young woman a stoic look.   
  
"I asked who SHE was. The woman that dumped you."  
  
Alyssa nodded, "That's what I thought you said." She paused for a   
  
moment to look from the bar to the bottle of water I put down next to her,   
  
after a few seconds she's looking back at me. I'm nothing but cool as I   
  
clean a Collins glass. "How do you know if it is a girl?"  
  
I shrug slightly before I stack the glass up with a few others. "Just   
  
guessing. I figured you were from the way you kept tossing glances at Sheila   
  
all night." I give a more exaggerated shrug this time. "But hey I could be   
  
wrong, it has happened before."  
  
"His name is Holden."  
  
I turn around to look at Alyssa for a moment. "So I was wrong?"  
  
The little blonde gives me a lopsided smile. "Yes...and no."  
  
I nod before she can go into a deep explanation. "No need to explain.   
  
I understand. It's pretty confusing not knowing who's more attractive, the   
  
guy behind the bar or the femme in the short skirt. Am I right?" Alyssa   
  
gives me a gentle nod with a tiny smile. "So tell me about this Holden guy.   
  
What'd he do that was so bad?"  
  
"We fell in love."  
  
I nod for a millisecond. One of these days I wish someone would come   
  
in here a bitch about something that didn't involve a significant other.   
  
"Been there, done that. I personally gave up on love years ago. So tell me   
  
'bout Holden."   
  
Alyssa drops her head and looks at the bar. "He's a writer and artist.   
  
We met last year at a convention."  
  
If it were possible I'd be picking my jaw up off the floor, through the   
  
safe, and through the bar. "H-Holden...McNeil?" Holy shit, I never thought   
  
I'd meet Holden's Alyssa. This is some fucked up shit.  
  
Alyssa looks up at me with a questioning glare. "You know him?" I nod   
  
dumbly for a second. "How?"  
  
"Uhm...well...Holden kinda stopped in here back in November. We talked   
  
for a bit. Mentioned you." Damn, I feel like I'm stuck in a lover's quarrel   
  
between two friends.  
  
Alyssa's feature's droop into a frown. Sorry girl, I'm not giving up   
  
more info than needed. She smiles a tiny bit and looks me in the eyes for   
  
the first time tonight. "So I guess he told you about our relationship,   
  
Banky, and all the weird stuff that happened?"  
  
I give her a reassuring nod. "Yeah, but to me what happened to you   
  
three wasn't weird. With the friends I used to have, what happened with you   
  
was child's play."  
  
Alyssa frowned for a second before looking up at me again. Did he tell   
  
you about last night?" I shake my head no. "I didn't think so. Last night   
  
Holden and I met up at the convention center."  
  
Alyssa ran upto Holden as he left the building. "Holden!" The man   
  
turned around to find the person yelling his name. "Holden, wait up!"  
  
"Alyssa?" A confused look covered Holden's usually stoic face.   
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"I want to talk to you." The young blonde woman stared up at her   
  
former boyfriend. "Let's go back to my place, it's closer."  
  
"Alright. If you want I'll drive."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Alyssa handed Holden a glass of red wine. "About last year..."  
  
Holden held up his hand. "You don't have to explain. I understand. I   
  
was an idiot. But...I'm over it. My bad. Don't worry about it."  
  
Alyssa blushed slightly and looked into her glass. "Holden. I still   
  
care about you, okay. I don't want to lose you as a friend. But we can't go   
  
back to what we were."  
  
Holden nodded as he placed his glass down on the table before him. "I   
  
know that Alyssa. Banky said pretty much the same thing when he kicked me   
  
out of the apartment. Trust me, I understand. I met someone a while ago   
  
that helped me put a lot of what happened between us into perspective."  
  
Alyssa finished off her bottle of water and handed the bottle to me.   
  
With practiced ease I toss it over my shoulder, knowing it'll land in the   
  
recycle bin. "We got pretty plastered last night. I remember getting naked   
  
and..."  
  
I whistle a sharp and harsh note. "Halt! That's enough. No more,   
  
thank you. I know where that train of thought leads. So what'd Holden do,   
  
tell you to come talk to me?"  
  
"Actually I live across the street. This was the first bar I saw when   
  
I woke up. I've been here since this afternoon."  
  
I feel my eyes bulge. This chick's been here since this afternoon?!   
  
No wonder Denis wasn't smoking half a pack tonight, he's thinkin' 'bout all   
  
the cash 'Lys just dropped in his pocket. DAMN!  
  
"Uhmmm...girl. You gonna be okay to walk home, or should I call you a   
  
cab?" I don't feel right letting her do either.  
  
Alyssa jumps to her feet, shakily. "I'll be fine. Like I said I'm   
  
just goin' across the street." She points out the darkened windows. "That   
  
building just over there's my apartment. I'll be fine."  
  
I shake my head. "Gimme ten mins, I'll walk ya home."  
  
I guess getting out of bed wasn't such a bad idea today. Sorry Sar, I   
  
wish I coulda spent the day with ya like I used to, but I was busy. Maybe   
  
this is the first step to my putting the past behind me. Maybe next year I   
  
won't be wearing my ring.  
  
Let's not just to conclusions. Hmmmm...wonder what's in that letter   
  
from Kalia? Guess I'll find out later.  
  
The aforementioned letter is sitting, unopened, on Ben's coffee table.  
  
The Dude Slayer sits behind his desk. The room is almost completely   
  
blacked out. The faint outline of his body shows the author hunched over his   
  
desk, head in hands. His mirror shades are sitting on the desk next to the   
  
powerless computer.  
  
TDS: I hate migraines.  
  
Dude Slayer pours half a bottle of aspirin into a pitcher of water and   
  
begins drinking from the pitcher. After a full minute the pained author half   
  
placed half dropped the pitcher back onto the desk.  
  
TDS: Fucking migraines.  
  
Weakly the author slapped the intercom on his desk. After a few   
  
seconds a slightly chipper and higher pitched version of his own voice   
  
sounded through the little box.  
  
CDS: What's up, Fuck For Brains.  
  
TDS: *low growl* If I didn't have a migraine right now I'd tie you up   
  
over the barracuda pool. Look, my head's killin' me. Do the notes will ya?   
  
Get Nous to help out, okay?  
  
CDS: SWEET!!!!!!!!  
  
The intercom shut off soundlessly. The Dude Slayer was left sitting in   
  
the darkness feeling as if he'd just allowed a hyperactive child to be leased   
  
in a Toys 'R Us with a credit card.  
  
TDS: Fuck the Chibis. I don't own Alyssa, Holden, or anything   
  
involving them. They're property of Kevin Smith and used without his   
  
permission. I garner no profit from these fics. McLeary's is owned by Denis   
  
Leary, it and he are used without his permission.  
  
Robbie's bike, mentioned earlier, is actually being designed by   
  
himself and our friend Rigit. He calls the bike: Muerte Peor Meaido, it   
  
roughly translates to 'Death's Worst Fear.  
  
The bike looks like this: It's a chopper style bike matte midnight   
  
black frame with a chrome dragon attachment to the frame. The mouth of the   
  
dragon opens up over the wheel as the front fender, the tail is the rear   
  
fender. The rims of the bike have a flame spoke design that is a crimson red   
  
color, the headlights are the dragons eyes and the turn signals are it's   
  
ears. On the dragon's tailpipes is a nice "Dragon" exhaust system that   
  
shoots a 5 foot flame from them. The handlebars of the bike are the dragon's   
  
horns. The tail opens up to reveal a compartment for his sword, axe,   
  
assorted knives, guns... etc.   
  
The Dude Slayer pushed the back of his chair into an almost horizontal   
  
position and propped his booted feet on the desk. "Fucking migraines. I'm   
  
goin' ta sleep. G'nite all."  
  
redrum124@bigfoot.com 


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